We Were Promised Jetpacks
by EnjoytheSilence03
Summary: "I think you're hiding something." "Really?" he asked, fighting to keep his voice impassive, "and just what would I have found? I'm chasing a ghost, aren't I?" There was a long pause. "Are you?" Duo answered frankly, "I don't know yet."
1. Roll Up Your Sleeves

Hey guys! So I've taken a temporary hiatus on my other story _If I Ever Leave This World Alive_ to pour all my creativity into this one. Surprisingly, this story was completely unplanned and very spur-of-the-moment, see-where-my-writing-takes-me sort of thing, which for me is a downright miracle (I normally have to plan ridiculously far ahead and work out all the characters, etc, before I even_ think _to begin writing.

For anyone who cares, this story has an interesting little origin. I don't know about the rest of you, but back in say 7th and 8th grade I had the idea for this _story_ (which I actually kind of began to write, but looking back on the old word documents it was absolutely horrific, as all pre-high school writing tends to be). Now for this story I had worked out the entire plot and even had the beginning of the sequel all perfectly planned out, but of course I lost interest and left both behind in middle school. However, randomly, while stuck in traffic on the way home from school, I thought back to this idea of mine and realized just how much I really loved the idea of the sequel, but what a pain it would be to have write out the _entire_ (boring) part one to get to it. But, suddenly, while watching some kid and his younger brother scream and hit each other in the car next to me, inspiration hit. Why not _start_ with the sequel? And, thus, _We Were Promised Jetpacks _was born.

Enjoy!

* * *

We Were Promised Jetpacks

_Roll Up Your Sleeves _

* * *

**Colony ****L4-M13009**

**Year 198 A.C**

The artificial sun warmed his back as he strolled slowly between the rows of small buildings. All kinds of shops and cafés dotted the narrow lane, while apartments a floor above sat with their windows opened to the morning air.

He paused to avoid being hit by an oblivious kid absorbed with chasing after a little black dog. He was too absorbed in his own thoughts to even bother yelling at the kid to watch where he was going. He didn't have very far to go.

As he walked on, the people disappeared, and the noise and motion of the previous blocks quieted and slowed. The lane suddenly dived and twisted sharply. It was here that a lopsided building rested with a cross hanging crookedly over its door. White paint peeled off its walls in large chunks, and its once baby blue shutters, turned gray with age, hung awkwardly from their hinges. The building desperately attempted to follow the sharp angle of the street, but the effort simply caused it to look more like a circus' fun house parody of a church than the holy place itself.

He stood for a moment smiling at the pathetic, rundown little thing. It was so pitiful, it was endearing. He thrust his hands into his pocket, and approached the dilapidated church, rounding it slowly. He was in no hurry.

The narrow space alongside the building opened up to a long and narrow shockingly green field. Brick walls rose up at its edges, hiding it completely from sight from the main lane. It seemed so very out of place and far too large to be in such an urban area, but here it was, just as it had been two years ago when he had first found it and a year ago when he had returned. The consistency was oddly reassuring. The same shady tree stood proudly off in the farthest corner of the field. A tall, lanky figure stood resting under its shade.

"Duo!" a voice called out. Startled, he turned sharply to his left. A grin lit up his face.

"Yo, Quatre, my man! How's it going? Business booming?" he greeted the blonde warmly. He couldn't remember the last time he had seen the Arabian in person, but Hilde dragged him away from work every time the young entrepreneur made an appearance on television.

"Great, busy, but great. How's the shop?" Quatre inquired, coming to stop next to him.

"Hilde's been running me ragged, but what else is new? I was lucky to have escaped for today," he replied, rubbing the back of his head.

Their laughter faded gradually, and the two came to stand side by side in silence looking out on to the vibrant stretch of green.

"How long has he been here?" Duo asked, finally.

Quatre gave a little shrug. "He was here before I arrived." His voice betrayed his concern.

Duo gave his own grime smile. "Anyone else make an appearance?"

"Heero was here earlier and as was Wufei, but they both wandered off awhile ago."

"They never really were the type to sit down and reminisce," Duo laughed, beginning to make his way towards the far tree.

"Are any of us?" Quatre pointed out quietly. He gave a sigh before trailing after Duo.

If he didn't know better, Duo would have thought the lanky figure was some sort of statue. He stood ridiculously motionless against the bark, staring unblinkingly ahead. He nearly laughed at the thought of birds gathering around him.

"Hey, Trowa," he greeted brightly. The figure shifted to look up at him.

He gave a nod. "Hello Duo," he replied smoothly. His eyes flickered back down. Coming to stand beside him, Duo followed his gaze. After a few moments, he broke the stillness and marched forward to come to a crouch before the gray stone.

He lifted his hand and let his fingers drift over the engravings. The stone was icy to the touch despite the persistent sunlight.

_Nicole Hawkins _

_181 A.C. – 196 A.C. _

He tore his eyes away from the words. There, resting peacefully on the stone was an odd collage of, well, stuff. A large bouquet of assorted flowers of all different colors lay wrapped neatly in pink paper. It was obviously Quatre's. Nearby, a little round candle burned, its flame flickering lightly in the chill air. A small grin slipped onto his face. Wufei had definitely made an appearance. A tiny, plain yellow flower rested next to the candle. It looked ridiculously pathetic next to the pink bouquet. He grinned even wider. Its simplicity screamed Heero.

And lastly, sitting on top of the gray slab was a white lily and a shiny red apple.

Trowa.

He sighed deeply and reached into his pocket, pulling out a small wrench.

"Thought you might appreciate this after all the girly flowers," Duo whispered. He set the wrench down carefully next to the lily and patted the rock fondly.

He didn't know how long he sat there, squatting and staring down at the gray stone, but, abruptly, he found himself standing. He lifted his arms in a stretch.

"So, I'm starving. Who votes we take a lunch break?" He declared, grinning back at Trowa and Quatre.

.:::.

* * *

.:::.

They made their way back onto the street after a large lunch in one of the quaint restaurants that lined the street, all on Quatre of course. He had insisted, and Duo hadn't bothered to stop him.

"So I'm guessing Catherine hasn't gotten sick of your sorry ass yet and kicked you out, then, huh?" Duo joked.

Trowa raised an eyebrow at him.

Quatre stepped in. "Duo, that's a horrible thing to say! Catherine would never kick Trowa out," he defended.

"Oh come on Q-man, it was just a joke," he tried to reassure the blonde.

"Yeah, but still...."

"Actually, I'm moving out next week," Trowa deadpanned. He continued on, outwardly oblivious to the fact the other two had stopped in their tracks.

"Wait, hold up," Duo called sprinting after him. "What do you mean you're moving out? I thought after the circus had finally settled in L3 that you and Catherine had found that kick ass apartment. Why would you be leaving that set up?"

"Trowa," Quatre began, hesitantly, "you and Catherine aren't having any problems are you?"

Duo became worried for a second that maybe the girl actually _had_ kicked the stoic boy out.

Trowa, however, sidestepped the question. "Catherine has a boyfriend."

That was definitely the answer neither expected.

Duo floundered for a bit, trying to come up with a response that didn't sound too creepy, while Quatre clapped Trowa on the back.

"That's great, Trowa. I'm so happy Catherine finally found someone," he declared, sincerely. "Is it very serious?"

Trowa shrugged his shoulders. He was asking the wrong person.

"Well, he's a good guy, right?"

Trowa nodded.

"He's a doctor," he elaborated, as if it explained everything.

"Catherine is very lucky then," Quatre confirmed. Trowa nodded again.

"So, you're moving out to give them some more _privacy_, then?" Duo asked, suggestively, waggling his eyebrows.

Trowa sent him a sharp look, meanwhile Quatre rounded on him, oblivious to the insinuations.

"Of course he's giving them more privacy! They'll need it if they're relationship is getting serious." Quatre nodded his head, convincingly.

Duo let out a loud, barking laugh. He gave Quatre a hearty pat on the back. "Ah, I really have missed you, Q-man."

Quatre just looked lost. "Wait, what did I say?"

Duo just let out another laugh, as Trowa looked away to hide his upturned lips.

Abruptly, the peace of the street was broken by a loud raucous coming from down the street behind them.

"What the hell is that?" Duo asked, turning back to face the street they had just come down.

"STOP! THIEF! Someone stop that boy!" a voice screamed.

A figure darted around the corner at the end of the lane. Black cap pulled low over his face, the boy charged directly towards them.

"Stop him!"

The boy made an attempt to force his way right through the group, shoving Quatre out of his way before darting between the next two.

He was stopped abruptly for a moment. Duo had caught onto the hood of his jacket and jerked him backwards, but in one fluid motion, the boy thrust himself down and back, slipping his tiny frame easily out of the baggy jacket.

"Oh, no you don't," Duo exclaimed crouching and sweeping a leg under the kid's feet. Like hell some punk was gonna one up him. The boy slammed onto his back and lay motionless, the wind knocked out of him. Before he was able to pull another cutesy stunt, Duo landed a firm foot on the boy's chest.

"You got some smooth moves, kid, and I think those guys back there are just dying to hear all about them," Duo jeered down at him. "It wasn't very nice of you to shove my friend there Quatre, either. That definitely didn't earn you any brownie points."

Quatre sighed audibly, "Duo, I'm _fine_."

"Q-man, you're _killing_ my bad ass intimidation speech!" he whined, taking his attention off the boy for a moment.

The distraction was enough. The boy shoved the foot off and rolled to the right. Jumping to his feet, he made to take off again, but was this time stopped by an iron hold on his arm.

Duo watched as the jolt sent the boy sprawling backwards, knocking into Trowa, while the force of the impact sent whatever the boy had been carrying skittering down the street. His black hat tumbled off, landing at Duo's feet.

"I see your reflexes aren't as rusty as mine, Trowa," Duo commented, smirking, "Good thing too, because this punk's really starting to tick me off."

Duo glanced down the street at the approaching wave of policemen. "Hang on for just a second, Trowa. This kid has practically the entire colony after his ass. Wonder what a punk like him could have possible done to-Trowa?"

Duo had never seen his friend look so obviously shocked. His face looked ghostly pale, and his green eyes were the widest he had ever seen them.

"Eh, Trowa, man, what's up?"

He followed his gaze.

The arm he had grabbed hold of wasn't really an arm-well it was, but it certainly wasn't human. The afternoon sun reflected brightly off the metal arm. The technology for such prosthetic limbs was still being perfected, but the kid had shown this to be anything but you're run of the mill useless attachment. The kids' little maneuverings had made that fact blindingly obvious. Where the hell did a street rat like him get his hands on tech like that?

But that wasn't end to the punk's bizarreness. His other arm wasn't much better. His right hand tried desperately to pry Trowa's hand from his metal arm in vain. The hand and exposed arm was crisscrossed with scars, the skin disfigured and blotchy from what must have been horrible burns.

So, he had to admit, he was beginning to feel a tiny ounce of remorse for roughing the kid up so much. He knew firsthand what is was like to be alone on the streets, fighting to survive. Though, he remembered the hoards of police descending on them. The kid definitely had stolen more than just a loaf of bread.

He glanced up at the boy's face, and his breath caught in his throat. He felt as if he had just been punched in the gut. For a panicked moment, he believed he would never breathe again.

Messy, fiery red hair spilled over the white face. Grey eyes blazed angrily behind a sea of freckles.

And, just like that, they were gone, racing off down the street, stopping only to scoop up whatever had been dropped.

Trowa had let go.

But Duo didn't stop to register that.

It was _her._

He didn't think of the implications, the fact that it was impossible, that it defied the laws of nature, or that he could have even been possibly mistaken.

He took off at a sprint.

.:::.

* * *

.:::.

"For the last time, I'm not making this up! It was _her!_" Duo yelled, kicking a nearby soda can in frustration.

The artificial sun had gone down less than an hour before, and the five ex-pilots stood behind the rundown church in the colonies' twilight.

Heero and Wufei had literally run into Duo, who had been racing crazily through the streets shouting at the top of his lungs. They had barely managed to calm the nearly hysterical teen down enough to drag him back to the cemetery, where they had met up with Quatre and Trowa.

"Duo," Quatre interjected, concernedly, "we don't think you're making it up. It's just that sometimes eyes play tricks on us. When we want to see something so badly, well, sometimes our eyes see what they want to see. We had just come from the cemetery, it's understandable that-"

"That's not it!" Duo cried out, shrugging off Quatre's comforting hand, "This wasn't wishful thinking! This was her! She was standing right there! Quatre, you were there! You had to have seen her!"

"Look, Duo, I didn't get a real good look, whoever it was took off pretty fast and-"

"You _had_ to have seen her! It was _obvious_!"

"I saw the red hair, yes, but a lot of people have red hair Duo, it's not terribly uncommon…"

"Yeah, well name one other person you know with red hair!" He demanded, moving towards the blonde.

Heero stepped forward.

"Duo, stop."

He rounded on him. "No, I will not just _stop_!"

"Duo, we were all there two years ago," Heero continued, firmly. "She self-destructed the carrier from inside. Traces of Phoenix were found among the rubble. The mobile suit was completely destroyed with her inside it. She _died_ two years ago."

Duo looked about ready to punch something. His teeth ground in frustration. He rounded on Trowa, who hadn't spoken a word since the incident.

"Trowa, man, you saw her too! You recognized her! That's why you let go, right?" Duo insisted.

His steely emerald gaze didn't move from the lone tree in the far corner of the field.

"Trowa, you know it was her." Duo was practically begging now.

The lanky boy pushed off from the wall and began slowly making his way between the rows of markers.

"Trowa!" Duo called out, "don't try to convince yourself otherwise!"

"Leave him alone, fool," Wufei barked.

"Shut up, China-Boy. I wouldn't expect someone like you to understand," Duo growled out, carelessly.

Wufei pushed angrily off the wall.

"You'll regret that comment," he snarled, making a grab for the braided boy.

Quatre forced his way between them.

"Please, everyone just calm down. There is no reason for us to be fighting each other," Quatre begged. "It's been a long day, and we're all a little edgy. I have an apartment I stay in when I come to L4 for business. You all are welcome to stay there tonight, and then we can sort this all out tomorrow morning."

Duo huffed, "There's nothing to sort out. She's alive, end of story. And, if none of you will believe me, then I'll find her myself." He disappeared around the church.

Wufei sneered at his retreating back.

Quatre sighed deeply. He turned to the other two ex-pilots. "The invitation is still open," he said with a grim smile. They nodded. "I'll go grab Trowa, and we'll all head over."

Quatre approached the brunette cautiously. He wasn't certain just how much the ex-gundam pilot had been affected by the day's events.

"Trowa?"

He didn't move, but Quatre knew he was listening. He moved to stand next to him and joined him in staring down at the dismal grave.

The blonde gathered his courage. "What did _you_ see?"

Quatre turned to watch his expression carefully. Trowa's brows knitted together, as if the image in his mind and the image before him weren't reconcilable.

Time passed, and the sky above them grew darker.

"I don't know," he declared, finally.

And with that simple statement, Trowa shoved his hands in his pockets and headed back towards the two waiting figures in the distance.

Quatre walked his retreat sadly. He did not deserve to have all of the pain of two years ago be brought up again. It wasn't fair, not for someone like Trowa, someone who had already dealt with so much suffering.

Quatre looked down at the grave.

"If you're dead, please, I ask that you stay dead."

And with those words, he followed after Trowa.

* * *

So, I hope this wasn't a complete flop, feel free to review on what you think of it, or simply drill me with questions, whichever strikes your fancy. Anyway, updates should be pretty frequent with this story considering I have about three other chapters already written, so check back soon!


	2. All Aboard the MerryGoRound

Hey everyone! (Told you the update would be soon).

Huge thanks to Lulu and reb who reviewed! Its amazing to know someone's interested in this story. Also, thanks to Native and halas, who added this story to their alert list!

Enjoy.

* * *

We Were Promised Jetpacks

_All Aboard the Merry-Go-Round_

* * *

A week had passed, and he had gotten nowhere.

He had wasted the days drilling a bunch of runaways in the shadier part of town, but there was apparently some unwritten law among them all that _she_ was an unspeakable topic, particularly when it came to 'outsiders'. He was reaching a breaking point. They _all_ knew her. They just wouldn't talk.

Duo gave a yell of frustration, kicking a nearby rock into the debris of some half collapsed building. The entire area was like that, broken, in pieces. Hardly any of the washed out buildings had roofs or all four walls. Runaways, orphans, those forgotten, they peered out at him from the rubble. He obviously didn't belong here, not on their turf.

"Christ, you're back again?" a voice growled.

Duo turned to face a small group of teenagers. They were the leaders of a band of kids, a pseudo gang that was more for survival than anything else. They took in all the younger people in the area, and this place was their domain.

The group stood behind a single boy, their leader, the one who had called out to him. He was tall and sandy blonde, with steely brown eyes. His trademark, a dirty black bandanna, was secured tightly around his head. Duo would guess he was about his age, though it was hard to tell. He knew people aged differently on the streets. Kids grew up fast, too fast.

"Thought you got the message that we don't know anything 'bout that girl of yours," he sneered.

"Yeah, well, what can I say? I'm a stubborn guy, and I'm pretty damn good at telling when I'm being fed lies," he replied with a dismissive air.

One of the younger punks jerked forward, but a single motion from Luke stopped him in his tracks.

"Look, we've been pretty accommodating with your little search, but we've not too patient. I'll be straight with you, 'cause clearly it hasn't made it through that thick skull of yours yet. I don't want to see you around here _again_, got it?"

Duo narrowed his eyes. Luke was a little bigger than himself, but he knew he could take him. His eyes shifted to the rest of the group. They might be a problem. The numbers were against him. He needed to think fast.

"Look here boys, I don't mean to cause any trouble, see. I just know you know who I'm talking about. Simply tell me what I need to know and I'll be out of your hair."

Luke crossed his arms and stared him down. "And then what?"

Duo didn't understand. "Huh?"

Luke gave him a look as if he were slow. "After you find her, then what? What do you plan on doing?"

Duo faltered for a moment. He hadn't actually thought that far ahead. So far the plan was really just 'find'. Anything past that brought about to many 'whys' and 'what ifs'.

"Exactly. When you can answer that, we'll talk," he declared. "No promises, though."

Duo watched speechless, as the group retreated back into the rumble.

He needed to punch something.

* * *

.:::.

"Sir, I'm very sorry to bother you, but you have a woman on hold on Line 3. I tried to take a message, but she insisted it was urgent."

"Don't worry about it. Thank you, Mrs. Morgan."

The secretary bobbed her head and slipped out the door.

Quatre rubbed his temple. He regretted not asking for a cup of coffee, while Mrs. Morgan was still in the room. He couldn't remember the last time he had slept for more than four hours at a time. The finishing construction of X-18999 had been going badly. They had passed their projected completion date last week, while in reality they were hardly even past the half-way mark. Shipments of faulty and defective supplies had caused countless structures to collapse, resulting in the need for even more repairs than they had begun with. On top of that even more delays had been caused by the seemingly endless breakdown of machinery. Quatre was completely overwhelmed. He simply couldn't stand any more bad news.

He pressed down on Line 3. "Quatre Winner speaking, how ma-"

"Quatre!?"

The blonde jerked to attention. "Hilde? What's wrong?"

"What do you think?" She questioned, sarcastically, but her eyes betrayed her panic and worry. "It's Duo, of course! I haven't heard from him in _three_ days. Last thing he told me was that he was getting closer, whatever the heck that means, and that he wouldn't come home until he found whatever it is that he's looking for. Quatre, what is going on? What did he find? What has he gotten himself into now that he can't even manage a ten second, 'I'm alive and will be home within the next century' phone call?!"

Quatre rubbed his temples. Duo was really taking this _way_ too far.

"Quatre, I know you're really busy and all, but I just-I didn't know who else to turn to…"

"No, Hilde, its fine. What else are friends for, right? Give me a few days, and I'll bring him back. You have my word."

Hilde's green eyes softened. "You really are an angel, Quatre."

He laughed sheepishly.

Maybe this little vacation would be just what he needed.

* * *

.:::.

"So I hear ya got an answer for me braid boy."

Duo had been led into one of the more put together buildings in the area. Its front and roof had by some miracle remained in one piece over the years. It was certainly the only one of its kind on the entire block.

He took a long, obnoxiously casual look around the area. The downstairs was one huge room, crammed full of all sorts of junk. A massive pile of torn and weathered sleeping bags, blankets, and pillows lay in a heap in a corner, washed out from use. Half of what was once a chalkboard leaned against a far wall. A hazy, smeared map was sketched messily over its surface. The left side of the room was filled with all sorts of metal and broken electronics. Duo caught sight of TVs missing screens, microwaves without doors, and a collection of cell phones all antenna-less.

In the center of all the chaos was the oddest arrangement of tables Duo had ever seen. There were beat-up plastic ones missing legs, and heavy wooden ones covered with spiral engravings that would have been more at home in an antique shop.

The blonde sat at the largest, center table, giving him the evil eye. Boys of all ages stood tensely around him.

"Get rid of your little posse, and we'll chat," Duo requested, tucking his hands into his pockets and looking around disinterestedly.

The rising tension in the room almost made him want to laugh. These kids seriously needed to loosen up.

Luke narrowed his eyes at the brunette. "Fine," he relented, curiosity getting the best of him. "Everybody out."

"But boss-"

"Out."

The teens shouldered noisily past Duo, making sure to make clear their hatred of the outsider.

Duo watched them go through half lidded eyes and with a sarcastic smirk.

"Great bunch of kids you got there," he remarked, as the door slammed close. "Real charming."

He let out a little chuckle at his own joke.

Luke ignored his comments and got right to the point. "Your answer?"

He wiped the grin off his face. He needed to be completely serious for this.

He took a deep breath.

"I don't have one."

Luke's chair screeched loudly over the wooden floors. As the blonde stood, Duo was suddenly very aware of the fact that this guy was easily six feet tall.

"Out."

He raised his hands in a gesture of peace. "Now, hold up a minute, man. I don't have an answer, but I do got an explanation. So how 'bout you just sit back down for a moment and hear me out, okay?"

Luke crossed his arms and leaned back against the table. His expression made it clear that Duo better have something damn good to say. Duo chose not to point out the fact that he wasn't actually sitting down.

"Look, I just need to talk to her, okay? She's an old friend. I'm not going to hurt her or anything, got it?"

Duo cringed at his own words. He shouldn't have to be justifying his reasons to this punk. It was all just too close, too _personal_, to be talking about it like the daily weather.

"Old friend, huh?" he prodded, "and just how old are we talking?"

Duo blinked. He didn't expect that question. Just when exactly _did _he meet her? Three years ago? Two and half? He couldn't even remember.

"Eh, three years ago…?" he forced out.

"You don't sound so sure," Luke jabbed with a sarcastic smile.

"Look, I don't keep a timeline of my life, okay? It was over two years ago, I'm _sure _of that. Jeez."

Luke's steely brown eyes studied him intently. A little too intently. Duo felt his blood begin to boil at the thought of this guy judging him, deciding whether he was 'worthy' or not. He hated self-righteous people like him.

Luke abruptly broke his stare and turned back to the desk. When he turned back around, he was clutching a small scrap of paper. He held it out to Duo after some hesitation.

"Be there tomorrow at three. Talk to the old mechanic. He'll be able to give you some answers."

Duo sucked in his frustration and accepted the bit of paper. He felt as if he was being lead around a circle with _her_ in the center. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't do anything more than skirt around the edges.

"Thanks, man," he acknowledged, though he would decide if he really meant it tomorrow at three.

"Yeah, well, as far as I'm concerned, this never happened," Luke told him flatly.

"Fine by me," he replied, casually, reaching for the door. He paused for a moment. "Wait, why three?" He glanced back over his shoulder curiously at the young leader.

"Because then _she_ won't be there."

* * *

.:::.

"Oh, Quatre, it's so good to see you." Catherine Bloom cried, as the blonde's face appeared on the screen before her.

"It's good to see you, as well," he replied politely. He took notice of the piles of boxes around the house. "I see the move is coming along well."

Catherine's face darkened, "yeah, it's coming along alright."

"Is something wrong?"

Catherine made an effort to look a bit brighter, "it's not that big of a deal. I just get worried sometimes. It's just that Trowa's been so quiet this last week or so, and I don't know if I really made the right decision by agreeing with him. I don't want him to think I'm pushing him away…"

Quatre wondered distractedly if he had sign taped to his back announcing in neon, flashing letters, 'Tell me your problems!' He made a note to ask Mrs. Morgan for Tylenol.

"Well, Trowa's a really quiet person and I'm sure-"

Catherine made an exasperated noise. "Quatre, I _know _exactly just how quiet Trowa is." Her face lost some of its annoyance. "But this, _this _is just different. He's even quieter if you can believe that's possible. And he's, well, he's distracted _all_ the time, like he's in his own little world or something. I'm worried that he's regretting moving out, but I just don't know how to approach him about it." She stopped to catch her breath.

Quatre had been afraid of this, Trowa's reaction. He really could use that Tylenol about now.

"Catherine, I really don't think he's worried about the move. He was telling Duo and I about it just last week, and he seemed pretty excited, well, as excited as Trowa can be."

The brunette scrunched up her face and narrowed her eyes. Her hands moved to her hips.  
"Quatre Raberba Winner, you're hiding something. You know something I don't about why Trowa's acting all weird, don't you," she accused.

Quatre blushed scarlet. "Look, Catherine, it's really not that big of a deal, nothing you need to bother yourself with…"

She gave him a long, hard look before deflating. "Even after all these years, you boys just can't help keeping secrets from us, can you? Still trying to protect everyone around you, carrying your burdens to spare everyone else…you all really haven't changed at all." She let out a great big sigh.

Quatre felt even guiltier.

Catherine rebounded unexpectedly. "Well, I'm sure you weren't calling just to listen to me complain, were you? Trowa's actually not here right now, but he should be back any second now. I just sent him down the street to pick up some groceries, anything to keep him from staring off into space like a bump on a log."

Quatre was beyond relieved. "Actually, that's fine Catherine, I'll just leave a message with you if it's alright. I won't be able to come to the performance Saturday. I'm really sorry, but some urgent business came up, and I can't make it out to L3," he rushed out, hurriedly.

Catherine blinked. "Oh, I'm sorry to hear that. It's such a shame too. We're supposed to be pulling out all the works this weekend. It's the last show of the season, you know. Tickets have been selling like crazy. Of course, though, we got you a VIP seat center row, but I suppose I can always give it to Philip. He hasn't actually come see us perform yet. Can you believe that? We've been dating for almost a year now, too."

Quatre tried to interject, "I'd love to stay and chat, Catherine, but I'm very busy and-"

Catherine either didn't hear him or chose to flat out ignore him. "He works the night shifts, right, so his only night off is Sunday, the one day we don't perform. But he's been telling me he needs a day off, so maybe I can convince him to take Saturday off…"

"That's a great idea! You should hurry and call him now!" Quatre responded, eagerly, hand inching towards the phone's 'end' button.

Catherine checked the clock. "No, its too late to call him now. He's already started his shift, and it's practically impossible to get in touch with him when he's running around that hospital. He's a surgeon you see and-"

She was interrupted by the sound of a door opening. As she turned away from the phone, Quatre resisted the urge to bang his head on his desk.

"Trowa! You're just in time! Guess who I have on the phone for you!?"

He seriously considered simply hanging up now. All he would have to do is just push that little button and-

"Hello Quatre." Trowa's face appeared on the screen.

He cursed his own politeness.

"Good evening," he replied half-heartedly.

"You look like hell."

"Thank you for noticing."

The brunette raised an eyebrow at the blonde's unusual show of cynicism.

Quatre rushed to cover it up. "Look, I have to go, but I was just calling to tell you that I won't be able to make it Saturday. I'm very sorry. I know we've been planning this for awhile."

"Did something happen at the construction site?" Trowa asked after a moment's pause.

"Yes, and, well, no, not really, at least not recently, anyway, thank god."

Quatre faltered when he realized he had just given up his only legitimate excuse.

"But, well, you see, I have to, no, I need to, eh-"

"Quatre, lying will only make me worry more."

He resisted the urge to collapse against his desk. He just couldn't win with anyone today.

The two sat in silence for awhile. Quatre knew Trowa could wait all night for an answer. His patience was limitless. Quatre, however, could not wait forever. His head was pounding more and more by the minute.

He closed his eyes for a moment, already regretting what he was about to do.

"I got a call from Hilde, today."

* * *

Once again, feedback (especially reviews) are greatly appreciated (both positive and negative), so feel free to do either. Look for another update at the end of the week!


	3. The Worst Day Since Yesterday

Hey everyone! I meant to post earlier, but I had senior retreat and disappeared from civilization for three solid days of crying and class bonding.

Anyway, a little more is revealed in this chapter (hence its length), though it will more than likely just leave you all with more questions. Hehe...

Happy reading!

* * *

_We Were Promised Jetpacks_

The Worst Day Since Yesterday

* * *

Duo was less than impressed.

The address dumped him in some back alley in front of a tiny shop, whose sign looked as if it would collapse at just the threat of a breeze.

_Locke's All Purpose Tech Shop_

He crumpled the paper in his hand. "This better not be another dead end."

He pushed open the dirty metal door, a bell tickling above his head.

It looked like a tornado had decided to take a stroll through the tiny shop. Metal pieces were scattered everywhere without even the hint of any kind of organization. Car magazines peaked out under piles of half finished metal arms. A metal hand lay twitching on the table. Screws and gears and wrenches appeared everywhere he looked. From behind a curtain of beads, hard metal music blared, just barely muted, simply adding to the overall chaos of the area.

Hilde could never again accuse _his_ workshop of being disorganized.

The bead curtain rattled.

One of the strangest looking men Duo had ever seen appeared through the clinking barrier. He was huge, really huge, and pure brawn. His features were sharp and defined, giving him a harsh, angry look, emphasized by the scowl pulling at his lips. Even his peppered hair was pointed and crisp, trimmed to a short military buzz. His narrow gray eyes, like two pieces of steel, zeroed in on Duo's comparatively small frame in a glare.

Yet, at the same time, his intimidating presence was completely undermined. The man wore a neon pink and orange, tacky Hawaiian shirt cut off at the shoulders. Duo's eyes hurt just looking at him. The outfit was completed with a pair of flip flops and khaki shorts. The guy looked more like some sort of wanna-be beach bum than a mechanic.

A glint of metal caught his attention. He wondered how he didn't notice it before. The man's entire right leg was metal, the same design as _her_ arm.

Maybe Luke hadn't led him to a dead end after all.

"I'm guessing you're Locke then?"

The man raised a pointed eyebrow and wiped his oil covered hands with an even dirtier rag. "Depends whose asking."

He put on a confident smirk. "Name's Duo Maxwell."

Locke stared at him blankly before turning and fiddling with some metal parts of a shelf. "Never heard of ya."

Duo let his smirk turn into a grin. "That's okay, I've never heard of you either." The old man seemed like a pretty cool dude so far, nothing he couldn't handle.

He let his voice grow a little more serious. "I need some information. I'm looking for this girl. She has this flaming red hair and-"

In a burst of motion, the man whipped around, a gun clutched in his hand.

Duo threw up his hands in a gesture of peace. "What the hell gramps?!"

The man leveled the gun at his chest. "Look, here, kid, I don't know who sent you, but you make sure that you never come back here again, got it? If I even get wind of you even talking about that girl," he jerked the gun forward, making his threat obvious. "You forget she even exists, clear?"

Duo shifted his weight towards the counter. If things turned bad, he could take cover behind its metal frame.

"Look, I'm not looking for trouble gramps. I just want to talk to her, okay? No harm, no foul, right? Luke sent me all the way here, and I expect some answers."

The man faltered, and a flash of confusion swept over his features. The gun lowered a fraction. "Luke sent you here?"

Duo waved his raised arms, "yeah, after just about a week of badgering, the punk finally found some humanity in that heart of his. Though, I have to admit, I'm beginning to wonder if he just sent me here to become someone else's mess."

The older man tightened his hold on the gun. "I don't like your sarcasm boy."

Duo shrugged unconcernedly. "Not really my problem, is it? Now, getting back on topic, do you know the girl or not?"

"Why do you want to know?"

Duo resisted the urge to scream. "Jesus, just how many times do I have to explain it to you people! She's an old friend. I met her three years ago. I just want to talk to her. What the hell is up with all this third degree?"

The gun lowered. "Three years ago, you say?"

"Did I stutter?"

The man paused for a moment, steely gray eyes racking over Duo.

"Follow me," he said finally. "And turn that open sign around. This'll take awhile." He disappeared behind the swishing beads.

Duo whipped around the sign and practically sprinted after the old man.

Finally, he was getting somewhere.

* * *

.:::.

"I still don't understand how you were able to convince Catherine to let you come along. You're going to be missing the big performance."

Trowa gave a small shrug. "I told her Duo needed some help."

"And she let you go? Just like that?"

"She likes Duo. Thinks he's a good influence."

Quatre had to grip the rail of the stairs to steady himself as he laughed.

The two were exiting a small shuttle on a private space dock on L4-M13009. It was a Winner Foundation's owned craft, and, therefore, at the leisurely disposal of Quatre, though one would never know, as he wasted a good thirty minutes apologizing for having to hijack it for the weekend at such short notice.

Trowa waited patiently for Quatre to collect himself, a small smile of his own tugging at his lips.

"Sorry," Quatre forced out between chuckles, "it's just the idea of Duo as a _good_ influence is just so, so laughable!" He dissolved into another fit of laughter.

Moments later he rose to full height with a bright smile. "Thanks Trowa, I really needed a good laugh."

Trowa didn't bother pointing out that the comment was Catherine's.

"You work too hard," he said instead.

Quatre sighed. "I know. It's just that there's so much to do, and with all the construction delays, I need to make sure that everything and everyone is taken care of."

"You should worry about taking better care of yourself first. You'll be useless to everyone if you don't." Trowa's expression remained neutral, but Quatre knew better than to judge his feelings based on that.

"You're probably right, but then again you always seem to be. How did you know I was losing sleep?" He asked curiously, rubbing the back of his head, sheepishly.

Trowa raised an eyebrow. "You look like you have two black eyes," he pointed out bluntly.

"Are you serious?!" Quatre exclaimed. He darted over to the nearest window. "No wonder I've been getting so many concerned looks," he speculated. "And here I thought that everyone had been pitying me for all those mishaps that had been happening." He let out a little laugh at his own expense. He tilted his head from side to side and prodded the bags under his eyes, which were larger than he recalled. "I didn't think it was that bad really…" he muttered, frowning at his reflection.

The brunette waited patiently for the other boy to rejoin him.

"Maybe it's a good thing that Duo pulled this little stunt now, then…" Quatre announced to himself. "I might get the chance to finally catch up on some sleep."

He turned his back to his sickly reflection. "Right, then, where should we look first?"

"Somewhere where would Duo would have begun searching."

Quatre paused for a moment. The object of Duo's search was still unchartered territory with the brunette. "Right, well, if he was looking for that boy, then-"

"Girl."

"Huh?"

"It was a girl," he answered simply, his gaze glued forward.

Quatre eyes saddened for a moment before continuing. "Okay then, if Duo was looking for that girl, then where would he have check first?"

"He called her a street rat."

Quatre nodded thoughtfully. "So then he probably thought she lived on the streets somewhere, like a runaway or an orphan. I guess we have to check Sector Six then."

Trowa sent him a questioning glance.

"It's the part of town that took the most damage when the White Fang took control of the colony," Quatre elaborated. "The buildings are all nothing but rubble. Duo would go there first if he thought she lived on the streets."

Trowa nodded, and the two made a left at the next street block.

* * *

.:::.

"You better be joking, gramps. I didn't come all this way to sit around and swap stories. I want some answers," Duo growled out. He fought the urge to leap across the table and strangle the old man till he talked.

If Locke was even remotely fazed by the teen's shortening patience, he sure didn't show it. He sat calmly, staring Duo down with those beady steel eyes. "You want answers, those are my conditions."

Duo rose from his seat and slammed his hands on the table. The beady little eyes didn't even as so much blink at the motion. He stood there for a good long moment glaring down at the old man.

Letting out a sigh, he fell back into his chair deflated. "Fine, gramps," he said, waving a dismissive hand, "have it your way. But, if you're so worried about trusting me, how can I be so sure I can trust you? You're asking a lot of me. My past isn't pretty."

The old man sent him a hard look. "My name's not Locke."

Duo nearly fell out his chair. "Wait, what?"

"My name's Curtis."

Duo raised an eyebrow. "Eh, that's great for you gramps, but going back to me trusting-"

"Shut up," he said firmly. "I just told you something I haven't told anyone in twenty years boy. Now we're even. Begin."

Duo floundered for a second, trying to produce words to get himself out of this hole. The last thing he wanted to do was waste even more times reliving memories he rather leave buried and untouched.

"Damn, gramps, I wouldn't even know where to start."

"The beginning, idiot."

Duo looked up grimly. "The beginning, huh?"

* * *

"_Shit." _

_He braced himself for the impact. His reverse throttles were refusing to ignite, and he was set on a crash course with the white landing dock of Peacemillion. His hands flew over the console. _

"_Ignite, dammit!" He screamed, slamming his hands down. Deathsythe lurched, and the throttles burst to life just in time to keep him for punching a hole through the ship, _

_He jerked forward upon collision with the platform. As the machine went crashing towards the far wall, his senses picked up nothing but a rain of sparks and the horrible screech of metal against metal. _

_With a final crash, he slammed back into his seat roughly, and the cockpit went dark. He closed his eyes and breathed a sigh of relief. He hadn't actually pierced the far wall. Meaning he hadn't just exposed the entire hanger and all its occupants to the vacuum of space. _

_He let out a laugh ignoring the flash of pain it caused his ribs. He had the devil's luck. _

_He caught the hiss of the mechanical door closing behind him, cutting off the dark vastness of space. His body went limp in the harness. All he wanted to do at that moment was slip into unconsciousness and forget for a time the mess that was brewing outside that wall. _

_A series of bangs startled him awake. _

"_Yo, kid, you still alive in there!?" a familiar voice yelled out to him. _

"_Howard?" he asked himself. "Howard? That you?" he repeated, this time louder. _

"_Yeah, kid. Hold tight a second and we'll get you outta there."_

"_Anything I can do?" _

"_Yeah," he heard Howard yell back with a grunt. "Stay away from the hatch!" _

_Duo eyed the door a little wearily. "Sure, sure," he responded, more to himself. _

_He caught the familiar sound of a high powered blow torch being ignited. Sparks began to leak into the cockpit. With a yelp, he pulled his legs to his chest to avoid another stray spark. _

_Minutes later, the noise and sparks cut off abruptly. He heard the sounds of voices arguing outside. He reached out and kicked the door. "Hey, guys! I'm still in here!" _

_A faint voice told him to shut up. He grinned a little to himself._

"_If you want to keep your limbs," a voice that wasn't Howard's yelled out to him, "I suggest you keep them away from the hatch!" Alarmed, he curled into a ball, ducking his head, hoping they weren't about to do what he thought they were. _

_A series of small blasts rocked the gundam, and the entire hatch peeled off with a loud groan. He coughed furiously as the smoke from the explosions filled the cockpit. With a twitch of his hands, the harness released him, and he went rolling out of his gundam. He landed spread eagle on the floor bruised, but in one piece and away from the smoke. _

_Howard's face appeared in his line of vision. He still wore those same sunglasses, even in the middle of space. _

"_You look like hell, kid," Howard deadpanned, grinning faintly._

"_Yeah, well, you look tacky," he croaked out between coughs. Duo had always hated that pink beach shirt covered with little green palm trees that Howard seemed to _always_ be wearing._

_Suddenly, a burst of red flashed in the corner of his vision. He covered his head thinking it another explosion. _

_Howard let out a loud laugh. _

_Duo lowered his arms in confusion. "Huh?"_

"_Oh, you poor thing!" a distinctly female voice cried out. _

_Duo raised one of his arms and gave a dismissive motion. "I'm fine, really. The ground's real comfy." _

_This time it wasn't only Howard that laughed, some of the crew around them stopped to join in. _

"_I don't think she was talking to you, kid," Howard pointed out, nodding his head towards the gundam. _

_Duo craned his head back. _

_There, next to his gundam, was a head of fire red hair. It took awhile for Duo to tear his eyes away from the burst of color and realize that the hair was attached to a girl that couldn't be any older than himself. Duo watched as she scampered up the side of Deathsycthe's crumpled form. Her limbs were lanky and white, a fact exaggerated by the blackness of his gundam. With a quick motion, she disappeared into the cockpit. _

_He opened his mouth to protest. He didn't want some chick messing with his gundam. _

"_Don't even think about whining, Duo. Deathsythe's in the best hands out there short of the five scientists. And myself, of course," He paused to grin down at him. "Now, let's get you out of here and cleaned up." He turned to bark orders at the crew of men running around them. "Someone grab a stretcher!" _

_Duo made a noise of protest and tried to raise himself up. "I can walk just fine, Howard." _

_The older man placed a foot on his chest and added the smallest amount of pressure. Duo gasped and fell back, gripping his ribs. "Save the bravery for when it matters, Duo." _

_If he hadn't been so preoccupied with the burning fire engulfing his abdomen, Duo would have at least attempted to make some sort of comeback._

"_Now, you sure made one hell of a mess out of the landing dock. Your friends are going to be stuck outside for a while now. We'll have to move faster, though. We can't afford to sit in one place too long, and one of your buddies out there reported he's running low on fuel. He won't be able to keep up with us, even if we go our slowest. You sure are a pain, Duo." _

_Duo cracked a smile that turned out to be more of a grimace. "Thanks, man. I feel real welcome." _

_Two men arrived with a stretcher and hoisted Duo onto it carefully, a fact contradicted by his frequent curses and hisses of pain. _

_As he was being hauled out of the room, Howard called out to him one last time, "It really is good to see you again, Duo. Didn't actually think you'd ever live this long." _

_Duo waved an arm lazily, "I'm the God of Death, remember? I don't die easily."_

* * *

_He slipped out of his room a little over thirty minutes later with the help of some serious pain killers. _

_He limped down the hallway determined to check on his gundam. He still couldn't wrap his head around the idea of that girl tinkering around _his_ Deathsycthe. _

_With a sweeping look around, Duo slipped into the large hanger and darted towards the nearest lift, hoping none of the crew would catch sight of him. With a press of a button and a lurch, the lift began to rise, and he let himself fall back against the iron cage with a sigh. He would just lean here for a second and catch his breath. His eyes slipped close. _

_With a ding, the lift's iron mesh doors screeched aside, opening onto a walkway at cockpit level with his gundam. With a hiss of pain and a determined grunt, he willed himself out. _

_His hands gripped the railing tightly as he moved slowly down the length of the walkway. He was surprised they had been able to get his gundam in here in such a short amount of time. Even he had to admit, Deathsycthe had been trashed. He took a glance at the door to the hanger. The others should be arriving any moment now that the landing dock had been cleared. He wondered who would be first…_

_He shook his head and redirected his focus on his torn up gundam. He noted that the door to the hatch that had been literally blown off was missing in action, leaving the cockpit wide open. As he got closer, he could make the distinct sound of a welder and the accompanying flash of sparks. _

_He came to a stop at the computer positioned in front of the cockpit. He glanced over the charts of information and winced. It was worse than he had thought. One of the Vulcan guns on the head of the gundam had been completely destroyed. The buster shield on the left arm had been badly damaged and most likely needed to be replaced. The wires that powered the active cloak had been fried in the crash. And, finally, the hyper jammer on the back had suffered a lot of surface damage. The only thing that seemed to have made it out untouched was the twin beam scythe. _

_He let out a groan. This was going to take _weeks_ to repair; time he just didn't have. With a noise of frustration, he tore his eyes away from the damage report and peered into the cockpit. _

_At first all he could make out were a pair of heavy black boots, resting on the seat. However, as he inched closer, he was able to identify a pair of cargo pants, but the rest of whoever's body they belonged to lay hidden under the left console. A tangle of wires hung limply around the cockpit hid them from view. _

_He knocked loudly against the side of the gundam. _

_A loud bang sounded, followed by a loud, "shit" and a hiss of pain. _

_Duo had to step back to allow whoever room to stand. The first thing he caught sight of was a light gray tank top smeared with grease and smudged with black grime. Any other details he might have gathered were lost as soon as he caught sight of the bright red hair. The shock of color riveted his eyes. He didn't even notice the angry expression on the girl's face and her blazing grey eyes until it was too late. _

_Two dirty pale hands shot out and shoved him away from the gundam. _

"_You're the horrible pilot that trashed Deathsycthe!" _

_Duo blinked dumbly up at the girl, the pain in his ribs momentarily forgotten. _

"_Do you even realize what a mess this guy is in? It will take me practically a week of non-stop repairs to get him up and running again! What the hell did you do, run up to OZ and scream 'shoot me, I won't put up much of a fight'?!" _

_Duo opened his mouth to protest, but was cut off before he could even get a word in. _

"_Just who the hell do you think you are being so reckless with this gundam, huh? Do you have any idea just how amazingly intricate and advanced this machine is? It's a living testament to the pinnacle of technology of this era, and you go and treat it like some hand-me down toy!" she spat out at him, waving her arms furiously. _

_Moderately recovered, Duo spit out the first thing that came to mind, "If you think I'm reckless, babe, you should meet Heero. You'd absolutely love him." He knew immediately from the look on her face that _that _was _not_ the right thing to have said. The painkillers were messing with his head. _

_He got an icy glare for his trouble. "You better pray his gundam arrives in better shape than yours or else I might just have to bring up the issue of finding more _responsible _pilots," she threatened heatedly. _

_Duo was the angry one now. "Hold on, just who the hell do you think _you_ are judging _us_? You have no idea what we've been through, babe, so I suggest you _back_ off, okay?" _

_The girl froze and within seconds her entire face had turned nearly the color of her hair. She opened and closed her mouth, reminding Duo faintly of a red and white Koi fish. _

_She looked utterly…ashamed? _

_A small part of Duo felt a twinge of sympathy for her. A very, very small part. _

_A loud siren broke the tense silence. Another gundam had arrived on the landing dock. _

_The girl floundered for a moment, speak incomprehensibly and making wild gestures with her hands. Finally, with much effort, she forced out a rushed, "I gotta go," and skirted past Duo. _

_With quick reflexes, he was just barely able to grab hold of her wrist. _

"_Eh, look, um, it's been a _really _long day, and I-well, it seems like the whole universe is going to hell, my gundams trashed, and my ribs hurt like hell, and well, I decided to take it all out on you…" Duo rambled, intending it to come out as more a pseudo apology and less like 'listen to Duo bitch' time. _

_The girl looked absolutely horrified. "Ah, damn, no, look, don't, I_ _was way outta line there, and I really _do_ know better, really. I was being retarded and cranky because one of my favorite gundams has been reduced to practically a pile of scrap metal, and, then Nigel had to go and eat my last yogurt this morning, and, uh, yeah." She finished lamely._

_The silence between them had reached a whole new plateau of awkward._

_Duo wasn't quite sure if it had been the silence, the tension, or the overall stress of the day, but suddenly he was laughing. And not just the kind of 'ha-ha that was funny' laugh. No, this was a full out, doubled over, tears jerking laughter that shook his entire body._

_And he wasn't alone. _

_The girl had slumped against the opposite rail, holding onto it for support with one hand and using the other to try to vainly smother her loud laughter. _

_He didn't know it then, but that moment was the beginning of something, something he couldn't put into words._

_When their laughter finally died down, they sat there grinning goofily at each other like idiots. _

"_Nicole Hawkins," she stated, offering her hand. _

"_Duo, Duo Maxwell," he replied easily, shaking her hand. "I may run and hide, but I'll never tell a lie. Yeah, that's me in a nut shell." _

_Nicole blinked at him before collapsing in another fit of laughter. _

"_You said that," she paused to suck in air, "so seriously!" She burst into laughter that sounded borderline hysterical. _

_Duo scoffed and crossed his arms, offended. "What? It's my motto," _

_This sent the redhead into more breath consuming laughter. "I'm-I'm not making fun of you," she gasped, "really, I swear. I just can seem to stop laughing, and it's just-I didn't know people actually _had_ mottos like that in real life." _

_Duo couldn't suppress his grin despite himself. "What can I say? I have the tendency to defy reality now and again." _

"_Hey Hawkins!" a voice yelled from somewhere down below. "Where the hell are you?!" _

_Nicole jumped up as if she had been electrocuted. "That's my cue." She jogged to the nearest edge and grabbed hold of a hand held lift. "It's been nice laughing with you, Duo. I really needed that." She gave a little wave. "See ya around, pilot 02." _

_Something clicked in Duo's brain. _

"_Hey, hold up! You knew who I was the entire time, didn't you?"_

_Nicole flashed a mischievous grin that sent a chill down Duo's back. _

"_It wouldn't be very responsible of me to not keep up with the identity of the pilots operating my babies, would it?"_

_And with that she dropped down to the floor of the hanger. _

_Duo watched the smudge of red sprint towards the large door. _

_Nicole Hawkins, huh? _

_She was pretty amusing. _

_He grinned widely. _

_Maybe the next couple of weeks wouldn't be such a drag after all. _

* * *

.:::._  
_

Duo slumped back in his chair, suddenly very worn out.

"Happy, gramps?" he asked, with a bitter smile.

If the old man was even remotely fazed by the fact he had one of the infamous gundam pilots sitting at his kitchen table, he sure as hell didn't show it. In fact, he didn't show anything at all. Throughout Duo's long monologue, the old man's face didn't as so much twitch. With hands folded in front of him, he sat eerily motionless, staring down at Duo with beady eyes.

"Your turn, now, _Curtis_."

The old man breathed in heavily through his nose, while moving back in his chair. Duo leaned his elbows on the table, mimicking the other man's earlier pose. Finally, he was going to get some answers.

Curtis opened his mouth to begin, but was cut off by a cheerful 'ding'.

Both men froze. The door to the store had opened.

"Locke!?" a high voice called out. "Locke, we're in trouble! I just-"

The bead curtain rattled, and a figure flew in, breathing heavily.

His body went haywire.

He had felt like this before, though it had been well over two years ago. It was the feeling of the short moments before some battle. The dry throat, the sick anticipation tightening his stomach, it was all eerily familiar and brought him back to a time in his life he'd rather not revisit.

She was there. Right _there_. Less than two meters in front of him.

No matter how much he had believed, he hadn't been prepared for her to be so, _so_ _real_.

But she wasn't what Duo had imagined.

She had changed over the two years, gotten older, a concept he hadn't even thought to have applied to her. Thinking about, it was stupid of him to have thought she would stay the same, but it didn't change the fact that he felt nauseated at the transformation.

She had grown. She was still nowhere near his height, especially with his sudden growth spurts over the last years. But, even so, she appeared more willowy. She had lost whatever baby fat had been left on her body, and filled in more. Her hair was longer now too. It used to be short and spiky, flipping out around her chin in a way that had always reminded Duo of a pixie. Now, it was able to be pulled back in a messy braid.

Her face had changed too. Her features had become sharper, more grown up. Her cheek bones seemed more prominent and her eyes a little more narrow. But, at the same time, her eyes didn't even seem to be the same. He couldn't quite put his finger on it, but they seemed…emptier. But at the same time softer, more childish, more naïve. For a moment, her eyes brought an image of Trowa's to his mind.

Her clothing was just as unsettling. It had to have been the most girly he had ever seen her look. She wore a loose, light blue long-sleeved t-shirt and white gloves, undoubtedly to hide her metal arm. A pair of gray shorts and stripped tights covered her legs, and bright blue sneakers covered her feet. The look was finished off with a white ribbon secured tightly around her neck, giving her a distinctly feminine appearance. The Nicole he knew had never looked so…_womanly_.

Meanwhile, the redhead had gone rigid at the sight of him, a fact he didn't fully take into consideration until she had regained her wits and opened her mouth to scream.

"What the hell are _you_ doing here, _stalker_?! If you think you're here to blackmail me, think again!" She hardly paused for a breath before rounding on the old man. "Locke, what possessed you to let him in? Do you _know_ who this is?! He's one of those guys that nearly turned me in last week! Get him out!"

Duo heard absolutely nothing that came out of her mouth, remaining slack jawed and paralyzed at the sight of her. So, finally, it was Curtis that was forced to intervene.

"Calm down," he commanded firmly, in a tone that left no room for defiance. Apparently, _she_ hadn't picked up on that because she raised her voice an octave higher. "No, I will _not_ calm down. He's been asking about me everywhere, pocking his nose all around Sector Six! I want him out of here, _now_!"

Curtis stood abruptly, chair crashing noisily to the floor.

"You will do well to remember just who's shop this is, Alice."

She stubbornly screwed up her face, just barely able to restrain her anger, but she had the decency to look down and at least pretend to be ashamed.

Duo couldn't have been anymore lost.

"Nicole? Who's Alice?" he asked, his eyes locked on the redhead.

She shot him an alarmed, freaked out look, which was immediately obscured by a neon pink shirt. Curtis had effectively moved in front of him, cutting him off from sight completely with his hulking frame.

"Why don't you head out back to the garage," he said, in a way that made it clear that it was neither a suggestion nor a request.

"Hold up, he-" Duo heard her protest.

"_I_ will take care of it," he declared, steely. "Now scram, girl."

Duo heard a few unhappy mumblings, but a moment later when Curtis moved aside, she was gone.

Before he knew it, he had been herded roughly past the bead curtain and to the store door.

"Hold up, gramps, there's no way in hell I'm leaving now!" he protested fiercely.

He was shut down.

With a sharp shove, Curtis sent him stumbling out onto the alley street.

He turned just in time to catch his final instructions. "Be here tomorrow, same time." And with that command the thick iron door slammed closed, and the heavy click of deadbolts locking reverberated through the small lane.

What. The. _Hell_.

* * *

So, I hope everyone enjoyed the chapter. Feel free to review or send me a message complaining, complementing, or simply ranting. I'll try to answer them all without ruining the story.

Look for another update sometime next week (hopefully)!


	4. Breathe In, Breathe Out

Hey everyone! This update is a lot shorter than normal, but that's just because the next chapter after this will be massive, so get excited.

Enjoy!

* * *

_We Were Promised Jetpacks_

Breathe In, Breathe Out _  
_

* * *

Trowa and Quatre had barely walked a hundred yards into the wreckage that was Sector Six when they were approached by three hulking teenagers that seemed to have materialized out of the very debris.

Faces stony and impassive to questions, they had led the two, curiosity piqued, into the very heart of the rubble, which, ironically, appeared to be the only building in the entire Sector with four walls and a roof.

Along the way, Quatre peered inquisitively into the rubble and felt his heart pulled painfully. There were so many children there, too many dirty faces with eyes too stony and features too sharp for their age. He had always assumed that places like this, cracks and holes where those left behind and those forgotten had fallen, had disappeared with the return of peace. With peace there shouldn't be any more orphans, any more broken families. He had never felt so embarrassingly naïve.

Without pause or explanation, Trowa and Quatre were just short of shoved through the building's lone, rusty door, which shut sharply behind them, and left standing awkwardly before an incredible mess of a room.

Quatre had already gazed around the room twice before his eyes finally caught sight of the figure sitting passively in the center of the chaos. The young man couldn't have been much older than himself, but a shocking air of importance rolled off him in waves. Quatre had seen his type before. He was someone people gravitated towards, someone they followed without question, someone who could lead men to their deaths without complaint. Quatre tensed. He was someone who had potential to prove very dangerous.

Abruptly, the young leader stood up and declared in a voice laced with irritation, "Now just what the _hell_ could you two possibly want?"

His straightforwardness startled Quatre.

Trowa took over for a moment. "We are looking for a friend," he announced with intimidating coolness. Quatre had always marveled how Trowa, though unnervingly quiet, could demand attention with the most softly spoken of words.

"Does this look like a _bloody_ _lost and found_ to you?!" he shouted angrily, slamming his hands on the table, which looked ready to buckle under the blow.

He gave the two a long hard look before rolling his eyes and sitting back down moodily. "I ain't got any answers for either of you, so just leave and don't come back." He waved his hands dismissively at the door.

Ever the diplomat, Quatre moved forward and addressed the other blonde in his most agreeable tone, "I apologize for our intrusion, but we believe our friend Duo might have been…searching around this area, and we simply wish to know whether you have seen him at all," he implored, with a hint of desperation. "Please, we don't mean to cause any trouble."

He stared Quatre down before looking off again, exasperated. "That's what _he_ said too," he announced, with a sulking air. He sighed before turning back to them. "Your friend wouldn't happen to have a three foot long braid and a serious issue with the understanding of the word 'no', would he?" he asked wryly.

"So he's been here?" Quatre responded, eagerness evident in his voice.

"Nope, never seen him," he responded impassively, staring down at his hands with mock interest. "Question answered. Leave."

"Wait-but you just said-" Quatre began, confused, before Trowa motioned him to stop.

"What do we have to tell you for you to give us the information we want?"

The brunette's question sparked some interest in the blonde. He glanced up at their determined faces and made a noise of irritation. "Jesus, you're just as hard to get rid of. There isn't more of you, is there?"

He stood and walked around the table. He appeared even more imposing from his new vantage point.

"Why exactly are you looking for this _friend_ of yours, again?"

Quatre answered firmly, "We're here to bring him home."

He raised an eyebrow. "Bring him home? What are you, his babysitters? Not sure about you two, but I definitely got the impression the punk knew exactly what he wanted, and it sure as well didn't seem like it was _home_," he commented, but then added with a shrug of his shoulders, "Not that it's any of my business."

Quatre rushed to defend their mission. "Look, he's not thinking straight right now. He's obsessing over something, well something impossible, and he's forgotten that he can't just drop everything to chase after a ghost."

Quatre was aware that his somewhat callous words were not meant solely for the dark blonde.

"Didn't act like he was chasin' after a ghost. Seemed real enough to him," the young man replied, voice solemn.

"So he was here, then?" Quatre sidestepped.

"Oh yeah, he was here. Stirred up a nice bit of trouble that one." He put on a sardonic smirk. "But he's gone now and won't be back."

"Are you sure?"

He sent him a steely look. "Pretty damn. Now, your questions were answered. Leave."

"Wait, do you have any idea where he went?" Quatre inquired, desperate now that their only lead threatened to leave them back at square one.

"Maybe." He shrugged his shoulders, carelessly. "Depends if he used the information I gave him or not." He grew suddenly serious and steely. "Information I don't plan on giving either of you in this century. Now, for the last time, _get out_."

* * *

.:::.

The colony's sky had long since darkened since the two returned to Quatre's apartment after the rather hostile end to their meeting with _Luke_.

Trowa sat motionless on the large windowsill that overlooked the deserted street below, while Quatre paced restless up and down between couches and tables.

The blonde felt beyond guilty.

He had made a promise to Hilde, a promise that now seemed impossible to keep. L4 was not a small colony, and Duo could literally be _anywhere_. Just to add to their problems, Duo had a knack of keeping a relatively low profile when he set his mind to it. His street knowledge was unparalleled compared to any of the other pilots'. If he wanted, he could remain unfound for a ridiculous amount of time, though Quatre could not accept that he would ever be so inconsiderate as to abandon Hilde without word for such an extended period. Either way, Quatre dreaded the phone call he would have to place the next morning to the young woman. So much for being an angel…

A muffled rattle sounded.

Both boys turned towards the front door of the apartment. The golden handle shook, and the click of cylinders and weights shifting past one another echoed through the silent apartment.

Someone was breaking in.

With a final, heavy click, the door popped open.

"Duo?!"

He whipped around, nearly smacking himself with his own braid. "Quatre? Trowa? What are you doing here?"

Quatre felt a rush of emotions and allowed himself to speak the first thing that came to mind. "This is _my_ apartment, Duo."

The brunette had the decency to appear sheepish, rubbing the back of his head awkwardly. "Eh, of course, um, well about this whole breaking in thing-um-I figured you wouldn't really mind me crashing here for a few nights, right Q-man? I mean, it's not like you use it regularly or anything. So, I figured you wouldn't really care, as long as I left it relatively unscathed."

Trowa raised an eyebrow at Duo's ramble, while Quatre prepared himself mentally for the huge shift in conversation he was about to make. "Duo…where have you been?"

Duo blinked a few times, face blank, before it melted back into his cheery smirk. "Eh, just around, no where important, you know," he answered with a dismissive air.

Quatre's face hardened slightly. "No, I don't know. I don't understand what you're trying to accomplish. Look, I wouldn't have interfered, except Hilde called me."

Duo's expression went from surprised to guilty. "She did?"

"Yes, she did. She's worried about you. She said you didn't even bother to give her an explanation or any sort of expectation of your return. That isn't right Duo. None of this is right. None of this is fair. To her or you."

_Or to any of us_, Quatre added silently.

As he averted his gaze, Duo's face became startlingly serious. He opened his mouth, as if he were going to explain, but closed it a moment later, as if thinking better of it. He finally turned back to Quatre. "You're right. None of this is _right_. None of this is _fair_." He stared at Quatre unblinkingly with an air of solemnity that made Quatre feel as if they were no longer talking about the same thing.

Then, as quickly as it came, the moment passed.

Duo let out a large yawn and stretched his arms above his head. "Well I am beat. Think I'll play some video games before hitting the sack. I'll be in the second guest room if you need me. See you guys in the morning," he announced cheerfully, disappearing down the hall with a casual wave over his shoulder.

Quatre watched him leave through sad eyes.

* * *

.:::.

He cursed loudly as he lost another life.

Duo estimated it was roughly around three in the morning, and he guessed he had been playing this game for over five hours now. He could feel the heavy pull of sleep on his unblinking eyes, a heaviness he refused to give in to. He would force himself to remain awake until he was literally at the brink of passing out. Only then would he allow himself to stumble over to the soft, fancy bed and collapse, most likely asleep before he even hit the pillow.

Duo nodded to himself determinedly before cursing under his breath again, as GAME OVER flashed brightly over the TV screen.

"That's the ninth time you've died."

Duo let out a yelp, game controller flying out of his hands. Gripping his rapidly beating heart, he whipped around to find the lanky brunette leaning casually just inside his room, staring at him impassively.

"Jeez, Trowa, it's too late for you to be sneaking around," he huffed, sulking a little, "or too early, whatever." Duo turned back to his game, selecting the 'try again' option.

He silently hoped that maybe if he simply ignored the freaky ninja boy, he might just go away. Duo was way too exhausted to deal with his ridiculous bluntness and crazy mind games.

"Quatre's worried."

_Oh damn it all._

"Q-man's always worried," he replied, masking his irritation with forced lightheartedness.

"He thinks you're taking this too far."

Duo put off responding and focused on the task before him, which was beating the pixilated boss. Aggravatingly, it had taken him less than _five minutes_ to defeat the ridiculous thing the _first_ _time_ he had ever played the stupid game. Currently, he was on his tenth try.

He mumbled out more curses, as he watched his avatar die on screen. He let a few more beats of silence pass before he returned his attention to Trowa.

"And what do _you_ think?" he said, all traces of joking and liveliness gone.

Trowa waited a good while before responding. "I think you're hiding something."

Duo was lucky he hadn't turned around for the slight shock on his face would have given him away. "Really?" he asked, fighting to keep his voice impassive, "and just what would I have found? I'm chasing a ghost, right?"

There was a long pause before he countered a little more forcefully, "Are you?"

Duo finally turned and looked Trowa in the eyes. His friend's lifeless, searching eyes had always unnerved him, but just then, they didn't seem so dead.

In fact, he thought if he looked hard enough, he could see a whisper of hope buried deep in there.

"I don't know yet," Duo answered frankly.

They sat in silence, simply staring at each other. Duo had the distinct impression that at some level they had reached an understanding, a sort of empathy, a similar state of mind.

Duo broke the exchange first, turning back to his video game, back to his distraction. He reached down and plucked another game controller from a nearby basket.

"Wanna play?" he asked tossing the black controller to the empty space to his right.

It took a few moments, but eventually Trowa materialized next to him.

Duo gave the screen a bitter smile.

He knew all too well that any distraction was better than facing the torturous 'what ifs' dominating their thoughts.

* * *

So-o the next update should be sometime at the end of this week, and it'll be HUGE! Also, a lot of questions will be answered, so I'm actually a little nervous (and excited) about revealing so much, but oh well.

Feedback is welcomed!


	5. Red Flag

**Hey guys, so I'm really excited for this chapter. Some of the 'mystery' will be cleared up -- to an extent.**

**Happy reading!**

* * *

We Were Promised Jetpacks 

_Red Flag_

* * *

As he stood before the blinking neon sign of '_Locke's All Purpose Tech Shop,' _Duo had the most irritating sense of déjà vu.

He huffed loudly, while reaching up to pound on the dense, steel door, but it ripped open before he had a chance, nearly knocking him over.

"You're late," the old man declared in his steely voice.

Duo started up at him, thoroughly pissed off. "Are you kidding me? This is the same time-"

"Shut up and get inside," he said, cutting him off mid-protest. Locke, or _Curtis,_ turned and disappeared inside, not even pausing to see if his orders were carried out.

Duo caught the door before it slammed close and stared darkly at the bead curtain where the tacky orange Hawaiian shirt had vanished. He was seething. _He _was the one being lead on the wild-goose-chase from hell, and this _grandpa_ had the nerve to be a self-righteous, bastard of a mechanic.

After a few moments of internal debate of how much a royal waste of time this would turn out to be, Duo reluctantly drifted into the same back room he had sat in the very day before.

Curtis was nowhere in sight.

A muffled voice called out to him, "something wrong with your legs, boy?"

Duo gritted his teeth and hoped his patience would last.

He followed the sound of the voice and found, practically hidden behind an ancient, rusting fridge, an entry way that opened to a flight of stairs, both of which he knew had _not_ been there yesterday.

He hesitated a moment at the top of the dark staircase, staring down at the inky blackness it would deposit him in. With a huff of irritation, he reluctantly trudged down into what he expected to be a dirty, dank, and chaotically messy basement.

"You're not planning on killing me and stashing my body down here, are ya, gramps?" he called down, blindly.

A voice replied, much closer than he had expected, "You've been watching too many horror flicks, kid."

Suddenly, with a soft click, the lights all flickered on, causing Duo to be temporarily blinded by the shock of the ridiculously bright fluorescent lights.

After blinking furiously for some moments, Duo's eyes cleared enough for him to realize he had reached the bottom of the stairs and his surroundings were anything _but _a dirty, dank, messy basement.

He sucked in a breath.

"Just who the hell are you?" he asked, furiously, but with eyes glued in shock to his surroundings.

The basement looked more like some military base he had frequented in a past life than the drippy, rusty chaos he had expected.

Three hallways opened up before him, their walls and floors solid metal. He could make out the slight indentation of electronic doors at their far ends before the hallways turned sharply out of sight.

He was beginning to feel a faint twist of nausea in his stomach. His hands and legs twitched with a rush of adrenaline. The entire façade brought on an unwelcome sense of déjà vu. He felt as if he were trapped in the heart of some Alliance or OZ military base.

He wanted out.

"None of your business. Now try to keep up." The old man took off down the right hallway.

His mind and body reeling, awakening instincts and reflexes he hadn't needed in over two years, Duo followed mechanically after Curtis. As he was led through a complex of identical corridors, his mind unwillingly began mapping out the underground complex, highlighting all possible escape routes. He paused instinctively at every turn of the hallways, muscles tense for a possible threat hidden around the corner.

If the old man noticed, he didn't say a word.

Only when Curtis came to a stop before one particularly undistinguished, commonplace door was Duo finally able to gain a greater control over his body's reactions.

He needed to calm down.

Now.

He had left that life far behind him, and he didn't need some ridiculous relapse to get in the way of everything he had worked for anytime within the next century. More importantly, this certainly wasn't the place for him to go all ex-gundam-pilot-solider-spy now.

He eyed the back of old man's orange Hawaiian shirt warily. Exactly what kind of civilian has a military complex packaged neatly under his back alley, tacky, microscopic repair shop? Just _who _the hell was he really dealing with?

After a swipe of a card Duo hadn't noticed the old man holding, the door slid open with a soft hiss. Inside, the lights flickered erratically, barely allowing Duo to make out a huge structure centered in the middle of the room covered by a ridiculously large tarp.

He was left standing in the doorway, as Curtis headed off to the row of computers lining the walls. With a few clicks, the blank screens blinked to life, and the room's lights calmed down and stopped their strobe-light flickering.

Duo watched as the old man started towards the focus of the room, but, then paused to turn back and face him.

"I believe this might be the answer you're looking for," he stated solemnly. The vague sadness and pity that softened his features alarmed Duo more than the entire eerie subterranean complex.

"Brace yourself."

Curtis stepped forward and tugged at the black tarp. The sheet fell away heavily, revealing the object underneath slowly.

Duo couldn't identify it at first.

He found himself staring at a large chunk of twisted metal. Whatever it had once been in a past life had seriously gotten its ass whooped. Black scorch marks covered its surface, making it difficult to even identify the object as metal. Other areas, heavily disfigured, showed evidence of exposure to what must have been unimaginable levels of heat, their surfaces melted and twisted grotesquely.

As he studied it closer, he discovered that the center of the object looked as if it had been carved out. The clean cut, rectangular opening of the cavity, which was mostly hidden in shadows, showed evidence of the use of a heavy duty blow torch.

He stepped forward to examine it further and just barely reacted in time to catch the object thrown his way. He opened his mouth to yell out a complaint to the old man, but his breath caught in his throat as he caught sight of the man's expression. The steely, stoic man looked unbelievably…_pained_, as he stared at the twisted metal.

He must have sensed Duo's eyes on him for he turned his back to the object and the teen and headed towards the computers without sparing either another glance.

Confused out of his mind, Duo turned his attention to the projectile. A flashlight. The old man had given him a flashlight. A sense of overwhelming dread settled in the pit of his stomach.

He couldn't remember willing his legs to move, but he suddenly found himself standing just before the twisted metal and the clean cut opening.

Mechanically, he clicked the light on and pointed it inside.

The inside didn't look any better than the rest of the metal mess. Scorch marks and melted metal were everywhere, but beneath the black ash he was able to just barely make out cracked glass lining the upper walls and hundreds of wires melted together in large lumps hanging all around.

But, it was the object in the center of the tiny area that puzzled him the most. He ran his flashlight over it again and again. The entire right side of the structure had been thoroughly melted and must have collapsed under its own weight. However, the right side appeared to be in better condition. He reached in to touch it. Rubbing away some of the black soot, he discovered what might have been some sort of joystick in a previous life.

He followed the arm up to the back of the structure. Another blow torch had been used to cut at the metal that must have reached around and…done what exactly? He pushed himself in farther to get a better look, gripping onto the edges of the metal. He paused abruptly, fingers coming into contact with something odd. With a shift of the flashlight, he found his fingers gripping a burned strip of coarse fabric.

_Fabric?_

His mind started into overdrive, trying desperately to connect all the pieces together. He knew he was missing something big, something absurdly obvious. Suddenly ridiculously frustrated, he shifted to call over his shoulder to the old man.

He froze.

He recognized the perspective all too well.

Suddenly everything crashed into place.

With a loud thud, he threw himself out the opening, snagging his pant leg on an indistinct piece of metal and ripping a hole in his jeans, carelessness he knew he would regret as soon as he recovered from his near mental breakdown.

It wasn't an _opening_.

It was a **cockpit**.

And that wasn't just some _chunk of metal_.

That was the **core of a mobile suit**.

"So, you finally figured it out, then?" the old man voiced, staring down at his crumpled frame intently.

Duo lifted to his head to glare heatedly at him.

"Don't give me that look, Duo. You wanted answers, and you're getting them. No one promised it was going to be easy and painless," he told him, voice steely and hard. Duo was so preoccupied with hating him that he didn't even notice that the man had actually called him by name.

"I found it five days after the battle to end all battles: the final confrontation between White Fang, the Alliance, OZ, and the Gundams." He didn't look at Duo as he spoke; instead, he stared intently at the mobile suit core, as if it held all the answers.

"I went out in a shuttle, hoping to find valuable parts in all the destruction and debris floating around space left over from the fight. That's when I found this, here. It wasn't the largest thing out there, but according to the computer, it was by far the densest. I pulled it in and didn't wait to come back to run diagnostics. It was a good thing I did too. Not only did I find that it was hollow, but that there was a faint heat source inside, a human, and a barely alive one at that. Unaware of what kind of alloy I was dealing with, it took me hours to crack open the blasted thing. It's a damn miracle _she _was still alive when I did, bloodied, burned, and unconscious, but alive."

Duo rushed to deny it all. Nothing could have survived inside that _melted _and _scorched _cockpit. Absolutely nothing. _Especially _not _her_. His lungs refused to breathe life to the words, and he was left opening and closing his mouth uselessly.

"I put out a missing persons report. It wasn't incredibly detailed, simply a description of the girl. You don't exactly advertise the fact that you found some girl nearly dead in the cockpit of a Gundam, especially, _then_, when such a fragile peace had finally been established between Earth and the colonies." He shook his head. "No, it wasn't an option. Besides, I didn't know which side of the fight she had been on. As far as I was aware all five Gundam pilots made it out in one piece," he added, giving Duo a hard look, with a vague trace of curiosity.

The look just served to enrage Duo further. His chest felt ready to burst. Awe, surprise, despair, anger, shame, guilt, remorse, all these emotions inside him seemed to meld together at one moment and then brutally repel each other the next, leaving him an absolute mess and feeling distinctly like a wet noodle.

Curtis ignored the ever changing expressions flashing across Duo's face and continued on.

"She stayed in a coma for over a month, and when she woke up, she didn't remember a thing, not even her own name. The hospital wasn't willing to release her in her 'fragile condition,' but after the third escape attempt, it became clear that they could no longer hold her," he spoke with a hint of a smirk pulling at his mouth. "She had backbone and a will to survive like I hadn't seen in a long time. So, I took her in," he finished with a light shrug.

"It helped that I knew her frustration." He gave his own metal leg a long, hard look. "Her left arm was damaged beyond help of surgery and was removed immediately when I brought her in. But she didn't seem to understand her own limitations, a fact that drove those nurses up the wall. She didn't want to be handicapped, so she wasn't. Maybe that was why I decided to try to fashion an arm version of my own leg. She deserved it. More than I ever had."

"I'd like to say it was a good deed, but it wasn't. That girl had a gift that was obvious from her very first conscious week at the hospital. She repaired her own vitals and heart monitor in less than fifteen minutes when the repairman stepped out of the room for some coffee. A vending machine broke down, and she got hold of a screw driver and had it up and running in five minutes flat. All with just one hand. As time went on, her spontaneous repairs became increasingly regular. She didn't understand how she did it; just that she could and did. So, I admit I didn't take her in out of the goodness of my old heart. My motives were entirely selfish. I was curious. Just exactly what was the extent of her capabilities and knowledge? I had to know." He paused. "And I found out."

He turned to give Duo a hard look. "So, did you get your answers, kid?"

Duo stared back at him speechless. He began shaking his head, ready to protest that it couldn't be true. He didn't care that he was contradicting himself now. There was simply no way _she_ could have survived that was no way that the _Gundam core_ could have survived the blast. End of story.

None of this could be true.

He turned to stare at the core itself in disbelief. There was no way it could have made it through the explosion. He had poured over the blue prints of the Gundam hundreds of time. It didn't have the strength to withstand the combined explosions. Hell, none of their Gundams had the strength to survive the combined explosions.

If he had even thought—even for one moment—that there was the slightest possibility of her being alive, he would have searched _dammit_. He would have spent the last _two years_ searching if that's what it took. But, they never—he never—even bothered to try to search. Parts of the Gundam had even been recovered, though in millions of pieces. It had been just so, _so obvious_ that she couldn't have survived. That nothing could have survived. If only he had bothered to look, bothered to just hope for a moment, then maybe—

He let out a cry of frustration and anger.

He took a series of deep, body shaking breaths in attempt to _force_ himself to calm down.

But if it was true, and this was the cockpit of _that _Gundam, then why did the core only survive? What would have caused it to be singled out? It would have to have had been-

He froze, paralyzed.

His blood ran cold, and he felt breathless, as if he had been punched.

_Why? _

_Why_ hadn't he _remembered_?

* * *

.:::.

"_Hey, Nicole, wait up!" _

_Duo huffed as he raced to catch up with her. He had been lucky to catch sight of her 'hard-to-miss' hair in one of the Peacemillion's hundreds of hallways._

_She paused and turned to him with a raised eyebrow. _

_"Where's the fire?"_

_He chose not to respond to the sarcastic jab. _

"_Where have you been?" he asked instead. _

_He winced. That had come out a little more accusatory than he had intended. _

_Both eyebrows darted into her hairline, and hands where placed strategically on her hips. _

"_Around. Not that it's any of your business." _

_Duo resisted the urge to bang his head against the nearest solid object. Why couldn't he ever seem to say anything right around her?_

"_I didn't mean it like that," he amended, waving his arms. "It's just yesterday I looked _everywhere_ for you. See, Trowa and Wufei played chess against each other, right? Except, neither one of them would accept defeat, so-o it turned into this massive three hour, ridiculously geeky chess tournament! You should have seen it! Both of them are too quiet and proud to say much, but I swear I saw smoke coming from Wufei's ears every time Trowa beat his sorry ass. But, more importantly," he lowered his voice, conspiratorially, motioning for her to lean in, "Trowa's eye twitched." _

_Nicole let out a loud, disbelieving laugh._

_"No way." _

_Duo nodded his head solemnly. _

_"Yes, way. Our very own statue is a little less stone-like than previously accepted."_

"_It really is a shame that I wasn't there, then," she acknowledged with poorly concealed mirth. "I suppose that the two strapping young men will just have to be lured into a re-match sometime in the near future." She tapped her chin thoughtfully. _

_Duo tucked his hands behind his head, and the two fell into a happy, contemplative silence. _

_Maybe they could even try to get Heero and Wufei to face off; that would sure as hell be interesting to watch. He could see Wu-man's face now, all screwed up and spurting nonsense about justice, as Heero beat him into the ground. To be honest, he couldn't even imagine a scenario where Heero would lose. It was something that simply wouldn't, or more like couldn't, happen anywhere in this reality. _

_He briefly considered a chess game between Heero and Trowa. Now, _that_ would be worth selling tickets for. Though, he had to admit, pitting two overly serious and absurdly intense guys, like those two, against each other in a battle of wills would be akin to asking for biological warfare._

_Duo left the idea alone. _

"_So, where were you, anyway?" he asked suddenly. _

_Nicole glanced at him out of the corner of her eyes before shrugging casually."Just working on some stuff." _

_Duo wanted to point out that that didn't even remotely begin to answer his question. _

"_What kind of stuff?" he asked, with excessive flippancy. If he appeared _too_ nosy, she wouldn't tell him a thing. _

"_Just this project I've been working on," she replied just as dismissively._

"_Oh?" he said with forced disinterest. "Anything having to do with our Gundams?" _

"_No, not really."_

_He strained his brain for another subtle approach. He was _going _to find out where she always disappeared off to. "So, something for Howard, then?" _

"_Nope."_

_Duo held in a groan. He could do this._

"_So, it's like a hobby of yours, then?" _

_She paused for a moment. "Never thought about it that way, but sure, it could be considered a sort of hobby," she commented lightly. _

"_So, I can see it then?" _

_Well, damn. _

_She stopped abruptly and faced him with narrowed, searching eyes, while he put on a grin that he hoped seemed innocent enough. _

"_Please?" _

_If she didn't make up her mind soon, he swore his eyes were going to be stuck in permanent 'pathetic-puppy-dog' mode forever, which he couldn't see being particular useful to him in the near future. _

_With one last hard stare, she announced, "Okay." _

_Duo nearly fell over. "Wait, what?" _

_Just like that? That was suspiciously easy. _

_She gave him her typical 'you-are-retarded' look. _

"_That means yes," she explained, slowly._

_Unable to deliver an appropriately clever response, he settled for ignoring the put-down and whooping. _

"_Sweet, so let's see it. Lead the way, babe!"_

_

* * *

Duo's jaw dropped. _

_Nicole had led him to the very back of the main hanger to a closed off section he had always dismissed as storage. _

_He couldn't have been more wrong. _

_The room had been pitch black, but the dim light from the doorway had allowed him to make out the vague outline of some hulking shape in the center of the area. Meanwhile, Nicole had disappeared to a cluster of nearby computers, which had blinked to life at her touch. _

_In a moment, the lights had flickered on, revealing the very last thing he had expected. _

_To be honest, he had imagined a hobby of a different sort. A stamp collection or an odd obsession with taking apart computers, but _nothing_ like _this.

_Why couldn't any of the friends he made be even the slightest bit normal, spending their time doing _ordinary, average _things?_

_Standing proudly before him was a sleek, shining red Gundam. _

_Well, his day just got a helluva lot more interesting. _

_The red Gundam was vastly different from the other five Gundams standing a few hundred meters behind him. Most obviously, this one was much smaller and way more compact than their comparatively bulky ones. It stood at a little more than half of their height, roughly ten meters tall, he guessed. However, its body and design seemed more square and archaic even. The Gundam itself was far slimmer and lacked any substantial weapons, as far as he could tell. If he had to guess, he would say it looked almost like a model, or some sort of archetype._

"_Beautiful, right?" _

_Duo tore his eyes from the mobile suit and redirected them towards the girl standing next to him. _

_For a moment, Duo was struck by the similarity between the girl and her 'hobby'. _

_The shock of red on the Gundam and Nicole mirrored each other in a borderline creepy manner. But the likeness ran deeper than that. __Their smallness and lankiness, their striking differences that made them seem so out of place: it was eerie how ill-equipped both of them were to face the world both had been forced into._

_He let his gaze linger on her longer than necessary, as her entire attention was focused solely on the Gundam with a soft, proud smile he had seen before on the faces of parents. It was weird, but just that one smile seemed to light up her face in a way that Duo had yet to see before. _

"_Its name is PHOENIX, if you were wondering," she said with the same soft smile. "She was one of the prototypes of your five Gundams." _

_Duo couldn't stop himself from asking, "she?" _

_Nicole sent him a playful glare. "What? It's not like you five dorks don't talk_ _to your Gundams either. And if you talk to something, it's only right you give it a gender," she defended, with a trace of embarrassment, made even more obvious by her darkening cheeks. "You refer to Deathsycthe as a 'he', don't you?" she added, a little accusatory. _

"_Well, actually-" He began with a large smirk, but she cut him off with a punch to the shoulder and a roll of her eyes. _

"_Oh, shut up," she told him, though he could have sworn he saw a hint of a smile twitching at her lips. _

_Duo grinned back cheekily. _

"_So tell me more about this girlfriend of yours."_

_Nicole sent him a sarcastic glance, but went on to answer his question with poorly suppressed enthusiasm. _

"_Well, she was built before the purpose of the Gundams had really been identified and established. At the time there was an idea for the gundams to be super stealth, high speed infiltrators, and, so, PHOENIX was born. Her body was built for pure, unprecedented speed with a deadly, though now archaic, cloaking device, an older version of the one your Gundam uses. However, because of this, PHOENIX has no weapons to speak of and little to no physical strength in comparison to even an average mobile suit, today. You can imagine the design wasn't exactly what the colonies needed for Operation Meteor, so the idea was scraped. I was unbelievably lucky to save this girl, here, from the same fate, begging and pleading myself and those around me senseless until I got my way," she admitted with a sheepish smile. "Back then, I was obstinate brat when I wanted to be." _

"_Was? I hate to break it to ya babe, but that hasn't changed." _

_He got another punch to the shoulder for his comment, while she continued as if he hadn't said a word. _

"_There was one other major problem with the model, though," she began with less enthusiasm than before. "The speeds intended for the gundam to reach and its thin body structure leaves little protection for the actual pilot. With a combination of both factors, the pilot would be unable to withstand the amount of g's they would be exposed to. Less than fifteen minutes in this baby would shatter bones." _

_Duo winced at the idea. "Well that sounds pleasant. So, why exactly did you want to keep this useless thing, then?" _

_Nicole rounded on him, grey eyes flashing. _

_Oh, damn. _

"_It is _not _useless!" she cried, heatedly. _

_Duo raised his hands in a gesture of peace. "Okay, okay, it's not useless, I'm sorry." _

_He waited uneasily, as she took deep breaths in an attempt to calm herself down. _

"_No, no, its fine. It's just a…a soft subject for me." She frowned up at the Gundam, avoiding Duo's gaze. "I don't like it when people deem something worthless or, well, incapable." _

_He had the impression that that didn't apply just to the Gundam. _

_Continuing, she seemed to brighten a bit, though he noted her fists clenched tightly at her sides. _

"_So, I was going to prove them wrong. I was going to fix her." _

_Duo searched her face carefully in the silence, watching as emotions flashed across its surface. _

_He hesitated before asking, "Did you?"_

_It was as if his words had stuck a needle in her balloon, and she seemed to deflate before his very eyes. He immediately regretted the question. _

"_Not yet," she said, a little despondent. "But," she added, straightening her shoulders, "it's _going_ to happen." Her brows furrowed and her face screwed up in concentration. "It's just frustrating, see? I'm always so-_so_ close. Every time, I think I've finally figured it out, but then-ugh. I've been moving forward in baby steps for way too long."_

_Duo studied her profile. "If it makes you so frustrated, why do you still do it?" _

_Nicole turned to him for the first time with a confused expression. It was if the thought to give up had never even crossed her mind. _

"_I don't know." _

_Duo had to hold in a laugh at her sincerely puzzled appearance._

_She turned back to the Gundam. "I guess-I guess I love it more than I hate it. At least I think…" _

_He gave up and let out a chuckle. "Whatever makes you happy." _

_She tried to look annoyed, but resigned herself to simply grinning back at him at her own expense. _

_

* * *

_

.:::.

_It was hours later when the two finally left the side hanger and made their way wearily towards the galley for some well deserved food. _

_The time had been wasted pouring over blueprints, diagrams, and computer models. Nicole had showed and familiarized him with the entire layout of Phoenix. Compared to Deathsycthe, the Gundam was ridiculously simple and straightforward; however, it was that very feature of its structure that created its problems. The addition of any equipment seemed to set the entire structure off balance and conflict with its main principle of high-speed._

_He almost regretted offering his help. The entire thing left him with a pounding headache. For the life of him, he couldn't understand why Nicole would willingly waste her _free time_ agonizing over that impossible machine. _

_Duo glanced over at her. She didn't seem the slightest bit affected by the pointless work, he acknowledged a little bitterly. He supposed she must really love doing what she does, because he knew if he had spent as long as she had on one machine and one problem, he would have committed suicide by now. _

_Dedication like that takes more commitment and intensity than he was willing to devote to just fixing a machine. Though, he admitted a little reluctantly, solving a major structural flaw like that was a bit over his expertise. It took a different kind of person-_

"_Nicole!" he shouted, impulsively, startling the girl._

_She gave him a weird look. _

"_Duo!" she mocked. _

_Too proud of his idea to acknowledge her sarcasm, he grabbed hold of her shoulders and shook her. "I know who can help you!" _

_She raised a disbelieving brow. "You do?" she asked slowly, skepticism evident. _

"_Heero!" _

_She sent him a dry look. "You want me to ask 'Mr.-I'm-too-good-to-socialize-or-speak-to-anyone" for help?" _

_Duo's grin grew. "Exactly." _

_She narrowed her eyes, still doubtful. "You're sure he could help?" _

"_Absolutely. Heero's like a genius with this sort of stuff. If he can't figure something out, I don't know who can." _

_She studied his beaming, confident face for a moment. _

_Suddenly, a smile broke out. "Okay, then," she announced, nodding determinedly, "I think I'll go track him down now."_

_Duo blinked. He didn't think he'd ever understand how girls change moods so fast. He swore the entire gender was bipolar. _

_Nicole broke out of Duo's grip and tore down the hall excitedly with a crazy grin, but, then abruptly, she skidded to a stop and turned back. _

"_You don't think he'd be asleep yet, do you?" _

_Duo laughed internally at her sincerely concerned expression, dismissing it with a wave. "No, the guy's practically an insomniac. Don't worry; he'll be up."_

_Another smile lit up her face. _

"_Great! I owe you one Duo. See you later!" _

_Duo watched her disappear around the corner with a warm feeling in the pit of his stomach. _

_He'd done good._

_

* * *

_

.:::.

_Days later Duo walked in on one of the most hilarious sights he had ever been lucky enough to see. _

_The day had been _beyond_ boring. _

_Quatre, Trowa, and Wufei were off somewhere blowing stuff up and causing general chaos, while, as if on purpose, Nicole had disappeared off again somewhere, leaving him with absolutely no one to mess with. _

_Well, not exactly _no one…

_That train of thought had led him to stand before the door to a computer-filled room he had dubbed 'Heero's lair'. _

_About to knock, he overheard an oddly familiar, high-pitched cry._

_Nicole?_

_Forgetting about knocking, he hurriedly pressed a button, and the door opened with a soft hiss onto one of the most awkward scenes he'd ever witnessed. _

_Nicole and Heero were…hugging?!_

_All of his trains of thought skidded to a stop._

_No, no that wasn't right. _

_Nicole was hugging Heero?!_

_Duo pinched himself. _

"_Ow." _

_He certainly felt that. _

_Just what sort of Twilight Zone had he been dumped into, then? _

_Nicole had her arms wrapped around Heero, who had gone awkwardly rigid, though she didn't seem to notice or, more likely, care. _

"_Heero, you are my hero!" _

_She let out a loud laugh at her own joke, and, had what she done next not been so shocking, Duo might have joined her. _

_Horrified, he watched as she leaned up and pecked Heero on the cheek before releasing him. She raced over to a mess of papers and diagrams scattered on the desks and gathered them together hurriedly, stuffing them messily into a nearby backpack. The laptop on the table followed soon after. _

_She talked on, animatedly, despite the fact that Heero had apparently turned into a living statue. _

"_I owe you one, Heero. Actually, more than one, really. Don't forget, if you ever need _anything_ fixed or taken care of, you just come to me. And Wing's Zero's repairs? From now on, I'll make sure their treated as top priority, no matter what." _

_She slung the backpack over her shoulder and gave the motionless pilot one last bright smile. _

"_Really, Heero, thank you."_

_He inclined his head slightly, a motion that would have been imperceptible to anyone not watching closely. _

"_I'll see you around!" she called, already heading towards the door. _

_Her eyes widened in surprise at seeing Duo's paralyzed form in the doorway. "Oh, hey, Duo!" she said, without missing a beat. _

_Her bubbly smile was a shock. Since when did people leave_ Heero _feeling _bubbly_? _

"_Bye, Duo!" And with that, she rushed out the door and took off at a sprint down the hallway. _

_Meanwhile, he redirected his attention back at the 'Mr.-Perfect-Soldier' and the pair of intense blue eyes glaring daggers at him. _

_Duo's mind raced to put forth some clever excuse, but then his eyes locked onto something far more interesting._

_Was that a….a trace of pink on Heero's face? _

_He knew it was the worst possible thing he could do, but he couldn't help it. _

_He lost it. _

_Loud laughter burst forth from his lips. _

_Faster than he was able to process, a pair of hands shoved him roughly from the room and against the far wall of the hallway. _

_The door swished closed, and a loud beep signaled its locking. _

_Duo still couldn't stop laughing. _

* * *

.:::.

Duo stared up at the piece of twisted metal, face screwed up in thought, painfully aware how much had changed since that time.

Less than a month later, they had faced White Fang in one last battle. Less than a month later, she had…

Duo frowned deeply.

Whatever change or idea Heero had recommended to her had obviously had some unknown side effects on the gundam, such as its new found ability to withstand complete destruction from an explosion that would have previously wiped its existence from the face of the Earth. Or space. Whatever.

He needed to talk to Heero.

* * *

**Woah, so that chapter took a ridiculous amount of editing and revisions.**

**I know a lot of you probably a lot to say about this chapter, so feel free to review or shoot me message if you want to vent etc.**

**PS: I have the next chapter written up, but I'm not really happy with it (writing it out was like pulling teeth...), so I won't update until probably next Sunday.**


	6. Reinforcing Sandcastles

We Were Promised Jetpacks

_**Reinforcing Sandcastles**  
_

_

* * *

_

He sprinted down the streets, mind too preoccupied with avoiding mailboxes and pedestrians to think of anything else. Exactly how he wanted it to stay.

It was just too much—too much to absorb—too much to deal with. No, he would avoid thinking about it until he absolutely _had _to.

In the meantime, he would pour all of his energy into getting in contact with Heero. He had to be sure. Sure that any of this craziness was even possible.

And maybe that was his greatest fear. That he'd wake up, and all of this was just some crazy, bad-Twinkie-induced dream. So, before he lost himself completely, he was going to make sure the damn thing had at least an ounce of reality.

Though, it wasn't like he'd ever admit that.

He had been the one that pushed and prodded when everyone else said it was hopeless. He was the one who shook his head when everyone said it was impossible. He was the one that believe it was her when everyone else said it couldn't be. But, then, filled to the brim with doubt, Duo didn't know what he believed anymore.

After what felt like both hours and seconds, he found himself rushing up the flight of stairs that would empty him outside Quatre's apartment.

Gripping the familiar golden handle, he tore into the entryway like a bat out of hell. An action he regretted the moment he found himself the recipient of a certain brunette's inquisitive, piercing stare.

"Hey, Trowa, how's it going?" he rasped, trying desperately to slow his ragged breath.

The brunette was perched on the far windowsill with some book lying carelessly in his lap, and Duo wished beyond anything that his friend would just pick up his stupid book and act like everything was hunky-dory. Though, Duo acknowledged bitterly, that was like asking the Earth to stop revolving around the sun.

He shifted anxiously from foot to foot, while his eyes darted around the space searching for a certain blonde.

"Uh-Quatre's not around is he?" he asked with an uneasy, crooked grin.

Trowa had to enjoy watching him squirm because he decided to take a ridiculous amount of time to respond. Either that or the guy needed a hearing aid.

So, having spent enough time under the x-ray vision of those green eyes, Duo turned back to the door and called over his shoulder, "well, okay, then. I'll see you later."

"He's in the study."

In one motion, Duo twisted on his toes and streamlined toward the hallway to the right. He wanted to get the hell away from the 'too-observant-for-his-own-good' ex-pilot as fast as physically possible.

"Thanks, man!" he called back without turning. He didn't have to look to know that Trowa's burning gaze had followed every movement of his hasty retreat.

Duo scurried down the hallway towards the far door, pausing before it to take a few calming breaths.

He picked up snippets of what sounded like a heated conversation Quatre was having with someone. Forgetting what he had come for, no one to miss an opportunity to eavesdrop, Duo leaned in and pressed his ear to the door.

"—_another shipment...third one in a month—but we were told—yes, but…the extra security measures…of course…the whole shuttle?—and the crew—no, I will not relax…if this continues, Rashid…have to be—stopped…I know but—" _

The conversation was suddenly cut short, and he listened closely, trying to pick up the other persons voice, as Quatre said his farewells. Deeming it a lost cause, Duo shrugged carelessly—one less thing for him to worry about.

Duo's fist knocked loudly against the wooden door, though he didn't bother waiting for a response to let himself in.

He'd been in the 'study' plenty of times before. Superficially furnished to look like any other home office in all those fancy magazines, with a large, mostly empty, wooden desk and plush, shiny new armchairs, it was obvious that Quatre had never actually put the room to real use.

Well, at least until then.

The poor blonde lay in the center of a mess of papers, pens, and portfolios, looking every bit the exhausted, worn out CEO he was.

For a moment, Duo almost considered sparing him the headache he was about to bring.

_Almost_.

Grinning widely, Duo plopped himself down on one of the armchairs. "Work sucks?"

Quatre gazed at him dryly. "That's certainly one way to put it."

"Well, that's what you get for trying to run a multi-million dollar company at the ripe age of eighteen."

The blonde folded his hands under his chin, which Duo thought was more to keep his head upright than anything else. The poor guy looked as if he hadn't gotten a decent nights rest in days. Though knowing him, it had probably been weeks. Quatre was one of those guys that just couldn't seem to help being all concerned and self-sacrificing.

And it was those precise features of his Duo was counting on to be able manipulate Quatre then.

"Is there something I can do for you, Duo?" Quatre asked pleasantly, though with suspicious undertones.

Duo considered beating around the bush and dragging the conversation on, but a quick memory of his afternoon steeled his resolve.

"Actual, yes," he said, all traces of cheeriness gone. "I need to talk to Heero."

It took a moment for Quatre's mind to process his request. "Heero? Why would you need—" He paused mid-sentence, mouth thinning in disapproval. "Duo, this doesn't have anything to do with—"

"Look, I just need to talk to him okay? Nothing big." At the sign of Quatre's hesitation, he added, "and I _know_ you have his number. You're the only one out of all of us he'd trust to keep him informed and not annoy the crap out of him."

The blonde regarded him with serious blue eyes. "You're right, Duo, but I have explicit instructions from Heero that the line is only to be used in the case of an _emergency_, which I seriously doubt whatever you need is."

Duo's jaw clenched. He knew Quatre was just trying to help him out or whatever, but he'd come way too far to be stopped now.

"Quatre, _please_. It's _really _important." Duo was close to begging, knowing that the soft-hearted blonde wouldn't be able last much longer. "_Please_, just do me this _one_ favor."

He let out a silent cheer, as he watched the blonde's blue eyes soften with pity. Maybe he should consider getting a side job as an actor…

Running a hand over his face, Quatre exhaled heavily through his nose. "I know I'm going to regret this but…fine," he relented, but added quickly upon Duo's hopeful look, "I don't have it with me, though. I can call Rashid to send the phone to me, but it'll take a few days."

Duo slumped back into his chair, absorbing the information.

A few days, huh? What the hell was he supposed to do for a few days? He felt like pulling out his hair.

"I'm sorry, Duo."

He looked up and locked eyes with Quatre's pity filled ones. Jeez, now _he _felt bad.

Sucking in a breath and standing, he waved dismissively at the blonde. "Don't worry about, man. A few days wait won't kill me," he announced.

_Hopefully_, he added silently, hand already twisting open the door.

"Thanks, again, Quatre. Later."

He closed the door behind him, but stood outside it for a few moments not sure what to do with himself. He tucked his hands into his pockets moodily and started for the front door.

He needed a distraction.

* * *

Against his best efforts, he had fallen into a routine.

He hadn't really meant for it to happen—not at all.

But, the very next day, he had shown up in front of _Locke's All Purpose Tech Shop _without even knowing how he'd even gotten there.

And to just thoroughly disturb him, it had even been _three o'clock. _

.:::.

_He stood watching the pink, neon blinking sign for an immeasurable amount of time until he finally gave up and threw caution to the wind, stepping confidently into the shop. He tensed anticipating some sort of onslaught, but the place had been empty. _

_However, for reasons beyond him, he didn't stop to consider that maybe he should just come back later, or, in fact, never at all, but, instead, without hesitating, he waltzed past the bead curtain, past the kitchen, all the way to the back door, which stood propped open. _

_High-pitched clangs of metal against metal and the distinct roar of gears told him that he had found the 'garage,' the place that _she_ had been banished to all those days ago._

_He moved forward and lingered in the doorway, pausing to absorb the sight of the area. It reminded him vaguely of the front area, a chaotic, mess of a room crammed full of metal parts of all sizes. Pieces of mobile suits, tanks, cars, computers, phones, and everything in between were scattered everywhere. _

_The sight was oddly comforting. _

_A hand fell heavily on his shoulder. Duo yelped and tumbled forward, turning just in time to catch a greasy rag with his face. _

"_You know how to fix a combustion turbine?" _

_He pulled the object off, nose wrinkling at the pungent smell of oil, and locked eyes with Curtis' intimidating form looming over him. _

"_Uh-yeah," he answered, thoroughly confused. If he wasn't mistaken, he had just technically broken into the man's personal garage—house too, if one wanted to be technical. _

"_Good. Follow me." And with that the old man took off into the labyrinth of metal. _

_Without hesitation, Duo scrambled after him. _

.:::.

And routine set in.

It had been a week since then, and it had become unspoken between the two men that Duo would show up every day at three, ready, though not always eager, to be put to work. He wasn't paid, nor did he ever expect to be, but he needed to keep himself busy, and he thought that maybe the old man had understood that.

Though, he would like to pretend that was the only reason he went back day after day.

The two also had another unspoken agreement. Duo was to leave the shop the moment Nicole—or really Alice—got back from wherever she disappeared to everyday.

The girl had thrown a pretty impressive fit when she discovered Duo's new investment of time; however, Curtis, in a way unbeknownst to Duo, had effectively shut down any future arguments from her about his volunteer work. However, that didn't stop her from mumbling cutting insults and harsh sentiments of hate any chance she got in Duo's presence.

But, as the week came to a close, even her complaints and biting comments began to lessen and weaken, though, whether she was simply running out of insults or actually getting used to him being around, Duo couldn't begin to tell.

At the same time, consciously or not, he wasn't quite sure, his time there began to lengthen. He found himself staying longer and longer past the normal deadline, taking on more and more work.

Despite this pattern, as he pulled out from under the frame of a car after over a week at the garage and glanced at the clock, he was nonetheless shocked. She had to have been back for hours by then, but Duo hadn't seen any sign of her or her snarky comments, which meant either she wasn't back yet for whatever reason or that she had skipped her daily session of 'antagonize-the-crap-out-of-Duo-until-he-leaves'.

He knew it couldn't be healthy seeing her every day, for however short of time. At some level, he knew it was tearing him apart. Every time she didn't recognize him, every time she kicked him out.

But he kept coming back for more.

There were those moments, few and far in between, which sent him back two years ago. She would say something or send him a certain glare, and he became convinced that he was talking to _his _Nicole again.

He both wanted and dreaded those moments.

Ready to clear his thoughts with more mind numbing work, he considered retreating back under the car, but immediately shot down the idea. Quatre would be worried if he didn't make it back soon, and he supposed it was best to stay in the blonde's good graces, anyway— at least, until he got hold of Heero. Then, well, then he could do whatever the hell he wanted—within reason, of course.

"Curtis, dinner—"

Duo whipped around to see Nicole standing in the doorway to the garage with a glare on her face.

"Oh, _you're _still here."

Duo rolled his eyes and moved towards a far table, permanently leaving behind any ideas of staying longer.

Shrugging on his leather jacket, he answered her jokingly, but with traces of bitterness, "yeah, yeah, I know. I'm leaving now, don't get your panties in a knot."

She moved to let him pass by, but he felt her eyes burning holes into his back as he rattled his way past the bead curtain.

His stomach clenched at the delicious smell of whatever she had been making. He had never tried Nicole's cooking before, but he knew at least Trowa and Quatre had back on the Peacemillion. The blonde had said it was delicious, though he was too polite to have said anything else. And Trowa, well, he had just declared it simply 'good,' which coming from him probably meant much more.

He lingered at the door, wishing that he had gotten the chance.

"Hey, uh-Duo?" a voice asked, hesitantly.

He whipped around to find Nicole standing awkwardly under the bead curtain, gaze averted somewhere to the right of his head.

"Um, see—er— well," she floundered, face getting steadily redder. "Uh—I made too much spaghetti, right? And, well, the fridge's already packed, so I would just end up throwing the extra out. So—er—you wouldn't want to, I don't know, stay for dinner, or something," she rushed out so fast it took Duo a few moments to understand what she was saying. "Though don't think this a lasting invitation. I just hate wasting food."

Spaghetti?

His stomach rumbled loudly, breaking the ice.

Nicole let out a snort before sending him a smirk, which he returned with a cheeky grin.

"I guess saying I'm not hungry would be a bit obvious, then."

"An obvious lie? Yeah, I think you were just overruled," she told him, motioning for him to follow. "Come on. If you're going to be a freeloader, the least you can do is set the table."

Duo grinned widely at her back. "Sure thing, babe."

* * *

Shit.

It was late, _too _late.

Quatre was gonna kill.

He twisted the door open slowly and slipped inside, praying that the two would be off doing something more interesting than waiting for him to get back. He clicked it closed behind him and began creeping over to the right hallway.

"Duo?"

Well, _damn_.

"Eh, hey, Quatre. How's it going?" he asked with a large grin.

Maybe if he just pretended as if he _hadn't _just got back at midnight, everything would be fine.

"Where have you been?"

Duo winced. That would be asking too much of course.

He sighed and replied seriously, "Quatre, you can keep asking me that question, but I can guarantee I'm going to keep giving vague, half-ass responses every time. You don't have to worry, I'm not doing anything you wouldn't do."

Okay, so maybe the last part had been a lie, but what Quatre didn't know, wouldn't make him worry.

The blonde didn't look at all comforted, but, with a huge effort, stepped back. "Duo, just don't do something stupid, okay? _Please_. I don't want to have to be the one to call Hilde."

Duo winced. As nice as he was, Quatre sure knew people's weak spots and wasn't afraid to use them either, for their own good, of course.

"You should know me better than that Q-man," he said in effort to lighten the mood, which failed spectacularly.

Quatre gave him a hard stare. "I _do_ know you better than that," he said dryly, "which is precisely why I'm worried." He sighed loudly, running a hand over his face, before abruptly shifting the conversation. "I got Rashid's package today."

Duo snapped to attention.

"You mean you have the phone?"

Quatre nodded, looking worn. "Yes. I left it in the safe in the study." He headed down the hallway with Duo close behind.

Duo resisted the urge to cheer; he needed to concentrate on what the hell he was going to say to Heero. To be honest, he hadn't quite thought that far ahead. The only thing he was certain of was that he had only one shot to hold the moody guy's attention.

Quatre headed over to the far wall and lifted a painting off effortlessly. A solid, electronic safe lay nestled into the wood. With a few beeps, the door popped open.

Running a hand through his hair, Quatre exhaled heavily. "I know I'm going to regret this but—fine. You better make it short, though, and don't blame me when he hangs up on you. I know I would…" he murmured the last part, digging through a layer of Styrofoam.

Duo ignored him, trying and failing to plan out what he was going to say to Heero. He shrugged giving up. He had always been better at winging it anyway.

"Here," Quatre told him, holding out a small black cell phone. "Heero told me it was built to be untraceable," he explained, after Duo sent him a questioning look at the phone's simple and archaic design. "There's only one number stored in the contacts, so just press here, and you should get Heero."

Duo turned the phone over carefully in his hand, staring down at it thoughtfully.

Before he could do anything, he needed Quatre out of the room. He couldn't afford for him to overhear this conversation, especially with his relentlessly annoying attempts to convince Duo to return to L2.

He scoffed at the idea.

A clearing of a throat caused him to glance up to find Quatre staring down at him expectantly.

Duo crossed his fingers.

"Actually, man, is it okay if I made this call—er—in private?" he asked, nervously, hoping the blonde wouldn't make too much of a fuss over it; however, he was pleasantly surprised when Quatre simply nodded and left the room after sending him one last meaningful look, as if to say 'don't-screw-this-up'.

Duo let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding when the door clicked shut.

Clumsily opening the phone, he pressed a few buttons and waited on edge as the phone rang.

Moments passed without a response, and he felt his stomach drop.

This couldn't be happening. He _had _to answer. If he didn't, Duo just didn't know what he would do.

A soft click sounded.

Duo jumped to his feet and waited.

"Heero?"

"Duo?" the deep voice replied with subtle traces of surprise.

"Hey, man. Look, before you hang up, just hear me out okay? I need your help."

Silence answered him.

For a moment he thought the worse.

"I'm listening."

He let out a whoosh of air and got straight to the point. "I need to know what you told Nicole two years ago in regards to the gundam PHEONIX. You helped her solve its cockpit problem, and I need to know how."

It took Heero a few moments to respond.

"Why?"

Duo felt like ripping out his hair. "Look, I just really need to know, okay," he said through clenched teeth.

There was a pause.

For a second, Duo was convinced Heero would dig deeper, ask what all of this was really about, but, for the second time that day, his friends surprised him.

"Added layers of Gundanium alloy concentrated around the cockpit. The layers would have reduced the force of g's on the pilot without throwing off the suit's equilibrium."

Duo collapsed back into the armchair. His free hand rose to cradle his head.

"Thanks, man," he said, forcing a joking tone. "If you ever decide to make an appearance within the next lifetime, I'll buy you a new gun or something."

And with a click, the line went dead.

Well, he had certainly gotten his answers.

Though looking back, he wasn't so sure if he hadn't been better off taking Quatre's advice and leaving the whole damn thing alone.


	7. Ships With Holes Will Sink

**Enjoy!**

* * *

We Were Promised Jetpacks

**_Ships With Holes Will Sink  
_**

**_

* * *

_**

Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit.

He was running late.

Beyond late.

His first mistake had been taking a sleeping pill the night before.

Mistake number two: he had passed out on the floor in front of the TV in a position that he had regretted the moment he had tried to move, which had been around roughly two o'clock in the afternoon.

Mistake number three: waking up at two o'clock in the afternoon.

Which meant he was screwed.

He always left before twelve.

Always.

And there was a damn good reason for it too.

If he didn't, he would get to have a nice, awkward moment with Trowa and Quatre, in which they would all dance around the pink elephant in the room, or, in other words, the fact that he disappeared every day off to who-knows-where.

Well, he knew.

And, on top of everything, he couldn't find a clean shirt.

He grabbed one laying haphazardly on the floor and sniffed it. It wasn't the best, but it definitely wasn't the worst.

Barely pausing to tug the shirt on, he raced out the door and to the kitchen, intending to grab a piece of toast as inconspicuously as possible and disappear in a similar fashion.

But, as always, the universe had other plans.

There, leaning innocently against the kitchen counter was the last person in the world he wanted to see.

Their gazes locked.

He bolted for the door.

He wasn't fast enough.

"Duo."

He wanted to die.

"Trowa! Hey, man, what can I do for you?" Duo put forth cheerfully, but with a hard edge to his voice. The brunette stood between him and his freedom, and Duo was _not_ in the mood to deal with an interrogation. The last thing he needed was to be even _later_ so gramps could bitch that much _more._

"I'm coming with you, today," he deadpanned with a casualness that made Duo want to punch him.

"And just where exactly are you going with me, huh?" he challenged, barely masking the irritation in his words.

Trowa stared him down, unblinkingly.

"Neither of us would benefit from Quatre's involvement," he said, finally, the unspoken threat clear.

Duo gritted his teeth. It was a low blow, but effective nonetheless. The last thing he needed was Trowa provoking Quatre to dig even further into his business.

"It's not like you to make threats, Trowa," he told him, dryly.

He blinked back.

"The threat is only effective if you've got something worth hiding," he told him simply.

Duo scoffed. Trowa was beginning to pose a serious threat to Wufei in position for 'Duo's-least-favorite-gundam-pilot-of-the-year.'

"Fine, do whatever the hell you want, see if I care," he announced, with bitter resignation, shouldering past him. "I'm in a hurry, and if I end up late because of you, _you_ get to listen to my lecture."

And they were off.

* * *

Duo had a plan.

It wasn't a particularly good plan, but it was the best he could come up with on the twenty minute power walk to Locke's.

It was already after three, right? So, when they would get to the mechanic's shop, Alice would be gone, and he could use the excuse of working under 'Locke' as the perfect alibi. While exploring the city, he had come across the shop and gotten himself some sort of pseudo job to keep himself busy (and nothing else), and viola! He had a brilliant excuse that would keep both Trowa and Quatre (after he got wind of it) off of his back for a good while.

The plan was flawless.

He could even leave Trowa outside to give Curtis a little heads up on the situation. Maybe if he made up some lame excuse like Trowa had followed him or something, gramps wouldn't be too peeved, or, at least not peeved enough to make a scene in front of Trowa, which was his main concern.

He nodded his head determinedly. Going in first definitely seemed like the best plan. The more 'surprise factors' he could eliminate, the greater the chances he would come out of this unscathed and with a solid alibi.

The day was looking up.

He turned down the familiar gray alleyway and caught sight of the unforgettable neon pink sign.

He turned back to Trowa and motioned for him to stop.

"Wait here, okay? I gotta make sure everything's cool with the boss man before I bring your nosy ass in there," he told him, not making any effort to hide his irritation with the situation.

He set out across the alley and approached the familiar steel door. He took one last glance at Trowa's lanky figure leaning inconspicuously against the far wall.

"Don't move," he reminded him before slipping quickly inside.

He nearly got mowed over.

"What the hell?" a voice cried, as Duo's back hit the door with a loud thump after he avoided a crash course with what looked like a wall of cardboard.

"Are you incapable of entering a door like a normal person?"

Duo blinked. The cardboard was speaking to him.

"What are you, some kind of ninja? Because sneaking around in broad daylight doesn't look suspicious at all."

It was a box. He was staring at a large cardboard box.

"It's not like you haven't been coming here for the last week, or anything. You're definitely not wanted here."

"Alice?"

Her sarcasm wasn't hard to miss.

"No, it's Santa Claus. Wanna sit on my lap and tell me what toys you think you deserve?"

"Wait, Alice?" he asked again, disbelieving.

He panicked. She wasn't supposed to be there. She was supposed to be gone—long gone—as in, not there—as in, not standing in front of him trying to juggle a massive cardboard box.

"Yes, it's Alice! Jeez, did you not charge your hearing aid, today?" she cried, shifting the box restlessly.

"But—you're not supposed to be here—it's past three."

"I know that, _thanks_," she huffed, irritably. "My bike broke, and I'm running late, like really, _really_ late."

"But-"

The box shifted, and Duo heard her make a distinctly unhappy noise.

"Okay, so if you haven't gotten the hint already, I'll try to dumb it down for you. I'm trying to get out the door you're currently blocking. Please kindly move before I drop this lovely weight on your foot," she told him with sugared sweetness.

"Wait, you're going outside?"

"Outside, as in the other side of that door? Yes, yes, I am. Now, hurry up and move."

"What about the back door?"

"What about it?"

"Why don't you use it?"

He could imagine the eyebrow raise she was giving him.

"Because, I'm standing less than a foot away from _this _door."

"Well, babe, that can be easily solved," he declared with forced coolness. He reached out and took hold of the box, twisting so that he could pull the box and Alice towards the bead curtain.

"Wait, what? What is wrong with this door?" she protested, yanking the box back.

Duo jerked it back to him. "What's wrong with the back door?"

A tug-of-war ensued.

"Nothing, except the fact that it's in the _back _and I'm in the _front_ next to the _front_ door."

Yank.

"Well, if you go to the _back_ then you'll be in the _back_ next to the _back _door."

Tug.

"But I'm not going to the _back_, so I won't be by the _back_ door."

Yank.

"Well, if you would just let me carry the box, we can go to the_ back _and go out the _back_ door."

Tug.

"But I don't need you to carry the box, and I don't want to go out the _back_ door!"

Yank.

"Come on, it's not that big of a deal."

Jerk.

"If it's not that big of a deal, why can't I just go out the _front _door?"

Yank.

"Because."

Tug.

"Because why?"

Yank.

"Just because, now come on."

Tug.

"No."

"Yes."

"No."

"Yes."

She let out a loud cry of frustration, startling Duo.

"This is officially the most retarded conversation I've ever been a part of! I'm carrying my own damn box, and I'm going out whatever door I feel like going out of!"

And with that, she stomped on his foot, yanked the box out of his hands, and threw herself out the door.

Duo froze.

Well, _fuck_.

* * *

Lead by the overpowering urge to stop the train wreck that was about to become his life, Duo crashed his way through the door.

"STOP!"

A loud crash followed his shout, both sounds reverberating off the high walls of the alley.

Under normal circumstances he would have rushed to help Alice gather and pick up the scattered contents of her cardboard boxes, but, as these were _not_ normal circumstances, his eyes, and indeed what felt like every nerve of his body, were fixed on a figure farther along the street that had just begun to move.

That was it.

Duo had an overwhelming impulse to throw up; however, at the same time, he felt as if his entire stomach had just disappeared, leaving an empty, gaping vacuum inside of him. His entire, poorly constructed peace was splitting apart at the seams.

Part of him, though, remained optimistic. It whispered to him that maybe Trowa still didn't see her. Maybe….maybe….maybe…

But he knew that there was about as much of a chance of Trowa missing the mess Duo had just caused than there was of Heero showing up at that exact moment doing the cha-cha and handing out flowers and hugs.

His feet appeared glued to the ground as he watched Trowa slowly approach. He was screaming at himself to move, to push Trowa away, to grab her and run, _anything_, but his legs didn't so much as budge.

The damage was done. No magic wand could be waved to change it. No band-aid could be used to fix _this_.

Not wrongly did Duo get the distinct, nauseating impression that it was all out of his control then. Everything could go bad and wrong, and there wasn't a damn thing he could do about any of it.

And that scared him – terrified him in fact.

His body tensed. Trowa had knelt down in front of her. The interaction was innocent, polite even, helping her collect all her stuff like that, but Duo couldn't help the itch he had to punch the clown – repeatedly.

The pair of them worked silently, depositing everything they could reach into the boxes. The interaction seemed so natural that Duo wondered—and hoped—that maybe she hadn't even noticed Trowa. She hadn't seemed to give him even an eye flicker of acknowledgement. In fact, he watched with trepidation as she picked up the boxes, everything safely inside, and righted herself, looking as if she was going to walk away without even saying thanks. He had never wished for something to be truer.

And then the prick opened his mouth.

"Need some help?" he asked in a deceivingly casual and collected voice, holding out his hand.

The sneaky bastard had neglected to return one last item—a large wooden spoon. Duo wasn't stupid. Trowa did it on purpose. He wanted her attention. Stupid clown.

She had started at his words, and for a moment Duo was afraid that the mountain of boxes would topple over again and give _him _more time to get her attention, but, of course, _he _reacted fast enough to pluck two of the boxes right from her arms.

Alice looked nearly as startled as Duo—for different reasons of course. The two had finally locked eyes, and Duo had the urge to stomp his feet and throw a tantrum.

Despite all his efforts, despite _everything_, they had…Trowa now…and then he would…

The atmosphere suddenly shifted. Whatever trance Alice had been in was broken, and her gaze became sharp as she looked Trowa up and down.

Finally, with an equally sharp voice, she declared flatly, "No." She paused before adding with a cold look, "especially not from strangers."

Duo was certain that had Trowa not been holding her boxes and wooden spoon hostage, she would have turned on her heel and marched defiantly right past the brunette.

He fought the urge to cheer.

Then the scene became a standoff. Two wills fighting against each other. The tension between the two was practically visible; Duo shifted his weight anxiously.

Trowa was making no move to give back the boxes and spoon; meanwhile Alice's hands were far too full to try to take them from him, forcefully or not. The end result was neither moved. Instead, they sat there staring each other down.

Alice was attempting what Duo figured she thought must have been an intimidating glare; however, the vision of her juggling the overly large box with her flaming hair frizzing and flying in every direction was such a comic sight that it had the effect of making her look like a pissed off furry animal with its hackles raised –non-threatening and slightly adorable.

Meanwhile, Trowa was just staring with those lifeless eyes of his, which, as he knew from experience, could get rather creepy after a while. Duo shivered as he looked him over. Trowa could be a pretty freaky guy when he wanted to be.

"Duo!"

He was so startled that someone was actually addressing him directly he nearly toppled over. He had gotten so used to simply watching everything play out, it was as if he had forgotten he was actually there himself.

"Here!" he called out, tripping his way down the steps. He paid particular attention to not allow his eyes to drift over to Trowa and his eerie stare.

He came to a stop next to her. "What's up, babe?"

Never taking her eyes off Trowa, she replied, "Can you grab my boxes from this guy? My hands are a little preoccupied."

"Yeah, sure thing."

It was inevitable then.

He tried not to look up. He tried to keep his eyes fixed on the brown cardboard. He tried. He really did. But it was almost as if Trowa's eyes had their own gravitational pull. And so, against his best efforts, Duo found himself the recipient of Trowa's sharp, calculating gaze.

And for what felt like the millionth time, no one spoke. They sat, watched, and waited. For what exactly, Duo wasn't sure. What he was sure of was that he couldn't seem to tear his eyes from Trowa's piercing ones. Whether it was out of guilt or some subconscious urge to punish himself, he didn't know. In fact, he didn't really seem to know anything then, except that he sincerely wished with all his being that he had never even woken up that morning.

"Okay, this is bloody ridiculous! I'm already running late enough, as is. So, if one of you would kindly carry the boxes—at this point I frankly don't give a damn which one of you it is—please follow me and try to keep up."

And with that final declaration, she marched past the pair of them, chin defiantly high.

Both boys turned to watch her retreating back as it disappeared around the corner. A few moments passed in which Duo wasn't exactly sure what he should do. There was no way he could try to talk his way out of this one. He knew words would not be enough to get him out of the fifty foot hole he had just buried himself in. Sure, they would be a start, but they certainly wouldn't be a fifty foot rescue ladder. And, far more likely, words would simply make what was looking like his grave even deeper.

So, in shorter terms, he was screwed.

And, as if to prove his point, Trowa turned his stare back on Duo causing every muscle in his body to tense.

There was no going back then. He had dug his grave and now he was going to lie in it. He would face whatever Trowa could throw at him. He wouldn't apologize, and he wouldn't regret.

With new resolve, Duo stuffed his hands in his pockets, widened his stance, and gave Trowa his own hard stare.

The silence spiraled on.

For once, Duo promised himself that he would not be the first to speak. He had nothing to say—which was in fact a lie because he did have quite a lot to say to Trowa, mostly along the lines of him being a nosy bastard who deserved every last headache and sleepless night this mess would give him. But Duo resolutely clamped his mouth shut in a hard line and donned a serious, no-bullshit face.

Then, to Duo's great astonishment, Trowa broke eye contact. The great-unfeeling-steel-faced-no-name-solider had just averted his eyes under his own, Duo Maxwell's, burning gaze. Duo felt a parade was in order.

But then Trowa moved forward with steady, sure steps, and for a fleeting moment Duo was sure he was going to be punched. However, the lanky ex-pilot simply came up next to him and stopped. They were standing shoulder to shoulder then, mere inches apart, both facing opposite directions.

Duo was tempted to sneak a glance at his face, but his own pride stopped him. He wouldn't give Trowa the satisfaction.

And, then, something clattered noisily to the ground. Trowa, without another glance at Duo, started forward, and, before Duo even had a chance to act, had disappeared around the same corner she had vanished behind moments ago.

And just like that, Duo was suddenly left alone with his thoughts, which were so packed into his head that it felt as though a colony of bees had decided to make its home there.

Somehow he expected the entire thing to be far more…apocalyptic. He didn't really expect the world to implode on itself or something, or for an explosion to knock the colony out of orbit, but he had anticipated…something more? Yelling, screaming, punching? He wouldn't have been surprised if Trowa had decked him then and there. Maybe on some level he deserved it too.

He supposed it was stupid of him to think that the world was going to end just because whatever little juggling act he had going on had been broken. But he still couldn't help the overwhelming feeling of disappointment he got when he looked around the empty alley.

Then his brain seemed to kick back into gear.

He had just left her and Trowa alone. Together. _Alone_.

His stomach did somersaults just thinking of all the stuff Trowa could slip that would ruin the fragile truce that had just barely settled on his and Nicole's—Alice's—whoever's—relationship.

He suddenly remembered the noise and looked down. There, lying on the pavement, was a wooden spoon.

He let himself indulge in a grim, crooked smile for a moment, before he snatched the utensil off the ground and tore around the corner after them.

Maybe he and Trowa understood each other better than he thought.


	8. I'm Not Calling You A Liar

**Okay so I have about 20 pages written of this story that I didn't realize until today hadn't been posted. Major sorry, guys!**

* * *

We Were Promised Jetpacks

_**I'm Not Calling You A Liar**_

* * *

Of course, the universe made sure Duo ended up in the very last place he wanted to be. The place he had promised never to come back to. The place he had literally been driven out of.

Hello Sector Six.

It was all coming together in a freakish, chill producing, puzzle-like manner that had Duo wanting to drop the wooden spoon and run in the opposite direction as fast as possible.

Alice, of course, was being welcomed with open arms—literally. Kids were popping out of the rubble like weeds, bounding over to her and wrapping themselves around her legs. Some lingered, while others ran ahead, undoubtedly passing along the word.

And kids weren't the only ones. Some of the punks that Duo had seen following that Luke kid around were making an appearance, coming up, making random conversation before disappearing back to wherever they had come from.

Not so surprisingly, the intensity of the warmth and welcome shown to Alice was matched only by the intensity of the iciness and loathing shown to Trowa and Duo. He swore he had never received so many frigid stares and dirty looks in such a ridiculously short amount of time in his entire life. Of course Trowa appeared to all the world as if he hadn't even noticed the tangible antagonism pouring from these street urchins. Duo felt it had something to do with the fact Trowa was lugging around two huge boxes of undoubtedly heavy, useful, community-benefiting knick-knacks, while he, Duo Maxwell, carried with all of one hand a spoon. Excuse him, a _wooden _spoon. Yes, that earned him thousands of brownie points. He had successfully braved the dangerous, rigorous, almost certain death-inducing burden of carrying—_the wooden spoon._

His parade and screaming fans should be arriving any minute.

Duo felt no surprise when he realized that he even recognized the path they were taking for he had in fact taken it more than once. With grim resignation, he accepted the fact that fate was blatantly fucking with him and plodded forward, chin held high and stomach plummeting.

And there in the distance was what he had both been anticipating and dreading, the looming four walled building, crumbling around the edges but stubbornly holding itself together. And, of course, with it came the ominously still, black bandanna clad figure, looking like the biggest wanna-be-punk-ass with his legs spread and arms crossed. Duo felt the bile rise in his throat. His hate for the punk was borderline ridiculous, but, as he acknowledged that truth, it did nothing to stop the burning rage that caused all the muscles in his body to tense at the sight of his stupid, arrogant, wanna-be-bad-ass, stoic expression.

Duo rolled his eyes and fidgeted irritably with the wooden spoon. Lucas—or whatever the hell his name was—moved forward to take the box from Alice. Duo quickened his pace, not wanting to miss out on their exchange and at the same time not wanting to give the impression that he was hanging back out of some ridiculous fear of Lucas' little punk threats.

"I'm really sorry I'm late, Luke," Alice rushed to explain with a sincerity that Duo deemed _Luke_ undeserving of. "My bike broke this morning, and I tinkered around with the engine, but then there was something wrong with the fuel tank, and everything pretty much went to hell from there."

Luke took the box from her effortlessly with one hand and used the other to pat her reassuringly on the shoulder.

"The important thing is that you're here now. We were getting worried—almost even considered running down to Locke's to make sure everything was okay and that trouble hadn't found you." He looked pointedly at Duo.

_Dick_.

Luke's look drew Alice's attention to her own little personal posse that she had practically forgotten. She glanced over and motioned at Duo.

"Oh, right, Luke this is Duo. He's been hanging around and helping Locke at the shop for a while now. For a walk in, no-name, he's pretty decent with most of the kind of stuff in the back."

Duo couldn't help sending Luke a smirk, while mockingly waving the wooden spoon at him. He felt all the more satisfied when Luke's frown deepened and his eyes narrowed a fraction.

Then Luke's eyes moved away from him, and Duo curiously followed his gaze. Duo did a double-take; he had completely forgotten about Trowa. He couldn't really be blamed though, Trowa had the freakish ability to sink into his surroundings and make himself as invisible and unnoticeable as possible. It was a talent he used time and time again back in the day. It was what made him so damn good at espionage and subterfuge.

Trowa returned Luke's gaze, but, unlike Duo, his expression remained unchanged in the face of Luke's intimidation attempt.

"And this is—" Alice faltered, "well I'm not really sure who the hell this is, but he insisted on helping…" Her voice drifted off. The oddity of the situation finally seemed to dawn on her.

"Just who exactly are you?"

"Trowa—call me Trowa Barton." He responded simply. Duo rolled his eyes. Why did everyone have to act like such hard asses?

Alice looked him up and down with a raised eyebrow, appraising him. "Right. Trowa then. Well—er—I'm Alice—this is Luke—and that's Duo."

"We've met." Three voices responded all at once.

Alice raised both eyebrows and looked around at the three boys who for the most part were staring each other down. Luke was drilling holes into Trowa's skull. Trowa was giving Duo his creepy, stoic stare. And Duo was staring daggers at Luke's preppy little bandanna.

"Really? Er—small colony, huh?" Alice joked with an awkward little laugh, though the suspicion in her voice was hard to miss.

"No, just a bunch of persistent bastards." Luke deadpanned.

Alice took another look around. "Right—well clearly I'm missing some inside joke here, so if you need me I'll be inside warming up the food. Let me know when you're all done suffocating each other with your own testosterone."

And with that Alice marched off to the main building.

When she was out of hearing distance, Luke finally spoke. "I thought I told you two bastards to never set foot here again."

Duo wanted to punch him.

Trowa shifted his creepy stare to Luke. "Actually, you didn't." And with those parting words, Trowa followed after Alexis.

Duo made to do the same, but was stopped by a hand on his chest. "Now, I'm a hundred-_fucking_-percent sure I told _you_ never to come back here, braid-boy."

Duo gave him a smirk. "Really? I don't remember you ever mentioning that."

Before he had time to react, Duo found himself being shoved roughly to the ground. He had to be losing his touch. Two years ago, the punk would have hit the ground before even _thinking_ about laying a hand on him. This peace thing was really taking a toll on him. Or maybe he was just getting old.

Duo stood up slowly, brushing off his pants with an obnoxious casualness. He looked up and gave Luke a pitying smirk.

"You really have no idea who you're fucking with, do you?"

Luke sneered and opened his mouth to respond, but was cut off by a shouting voice.

"Hey—Duo! You know how to fix a microwave?" Alice yelled across the rubble.

Without taking his eyes off Luke's darkening face, he called back, "Sure thing, babe."

Duo then stuffed his hands in his pocket and waltzed right by the stupid punk, who didn't move to stop him. However, Duo couldn't stop himself from getting in one last jab at the blonde.

"I really enjoyed this little chat we had—we should do it again sometime."

Duo chuckled to himself as he walked away, swearing he could hear the sound of Luke's teeth grinding together.

* * *

It was dark before the three of them begun packing up to leave. There wasn't much left to pack though, all the food the boxes had been stuffed with had been eaten in record time. Everything else, from scrubbed dishes to empty Tupperware, they managed to cram into two of the smaller boxes, and that was it.

So now, the mystery of Alexis' afternoon disappearances had been solved. After all that wondering and crazy theories, Duo finally knew, and suddenly everything seemed to make sense—the weird protectiveness, the familiarity, the extra food, the wooden spoon—it all fit.

She brought them food.

Every day, she would show up at the same time and dish out all the extra food she had made from the night before. She somehow managed to singlehandedly feed the tens of orphans running around Sector Six—for one meal, at least.

"Why?"

They were walking back then—him, Alice, and—let's not forget—Trowa. The streets were mostly dark, though as they ventured further from Sector Six the street lights became more reliably lit and less of the sketchily flickering mess they were blocks behind them.

"Why what?" Alice asked, a little startled. No one had said a word so far, and the sudden break in the silence seemed almost sacrilegious.

"Why do you do it?" Duo clarified.

"Do what?"

"That stuff back there. Every day. Why? What do you owe them?" Duo prodded. The questions might have come off as rude, but Duo, not wanting to piss Alice off anymore than he already had that day, tried to shove as much sincerity into his voice as humanly possible.

Alice didn't answer at first, but instead looked up at the colony's artificial sky, as if it held the answers.

She finally shrugged. "I don't owe them anything."

"Then, why?" he asked again, feeling like a parrot.

She stopped abruptly and gave him a hard stare. Duo did the same and stared right back. He didn't know what she was looking for, but she must have found it, because before he knew what was happening, she had taken off. He widened his strides to catch up.

The silence dragged on again, and Duo decided to take the patient route and let her talk when she was ready or whatever.

It paid off.

"I don't really know—I never really sat down and thought about it, you know? It just felt right—like something I had to do—a responsibility or something." She broke off for a moment.

"I guess that doesn't really make any sense. But—I guess it's just that—it could have been me, right? Without Locke, that's where I would have ended up—in Sector Six—abandoned with nowhere to go like all those kids, except with a stump for an arm and a shit load of therapy-requiring issues." She paused to look up at the fake sky again.

"So maybe I do it out of some perverse need to say sorry—because it was me and not them. Huh—" she stopped suddenly, "I'm more fucked up than I thought."

Before Duo could open his mouth to respond, she continued talking without missing a beat. "So, Trowa, right? You're friends with Duo or something?"

Duo blinked at the girl. That was one hell of a conversation change if he had ever seen one. He supposed that meant that topic was officially _closed _for the time being. He would never understand women.

"Yes, we're friends."

She raised an eyebrow.

"Known each other long?"

Duo couldn't help but wish she had never met Trowa. It was a purely selfish, greedy feeling. He knew it was stupid and childish for him to feel that way, like a kid who has to share his favorite toy. But that still didn't stop the jealousy rising within him, as she dodged his question and turned her attention on Trowa.

Stupid clown.

"A few years now."

"Really?" She sounded surprised. "With how you two act—I mean, I wouldn't have guessed—er—right. So a few years, then? How'd you two meet?"

Trowa took a moment to respond. "Work," he said simply.

"Work? What kind of work?"

"Just work."

Alice turned and gave Trowa an appraising stare. "You're one of those quiet people, aren't you?"

Trowa raised an eyebrow at her and said nothing.

Alice finally turned away. "That's not bad, though. Quiet people aren't necessarily quiet. They just say what they have to say in a few hundred less words than the rest of society. I've always wanted to be like that. I tend to ramble and talk in circles before getting anywhere near my point. So I guess I've always had a lot of respect for people like you—those that can say just what they mean—no bullshit, no circles— in just a handful of words. It's refreshing, you know?"

Duo threw Trowa a worried glance. The boy had flat out stopped in the middle of the street. Alice continued on, oblivious to the effect her words had on him. Trowa was frozen, and his eyes were staring unblinkingly forward, unfocused.

Duo came up and put a hand on his shoulder. Trowa turned to look at him with a blank stare.

Duo liked to think that in that moment he finally saw past that mask Trowa always put on—the emotionless controlled expression he used to hide his feelings on practically everything. Maybe it was because he knew what he was looking for, or maybe Trowa was just getting rusty, but he recognized that look in Trowa's eyes. He recognized that pain.

"It happens to me too."

Duo thought he'd enjoy the first time he got to see firsthand that Trowa wasn't really the Tin Man and actually did have a heart buried somewhere, but he didn't. In fact, the entire moment left him with a bitter taste in his mouth.

He gave Trowa's shoulder a pat before moving on to catch up with Alice.

Before he knew it, the pink glow of _Locke's All Purpose Tech Shop_shined down on them. Alice hopped up the stairs two at a time with Duo and Trowa trailing behind her.

"Locke! I'm _home_!" Alice shouted, as she danced her way past the bead curtain and into the kitchen. A bang from somewhere in the back was heard.

She dumped the box she was carrying onto the table and began unpacking. Trowa followed her example, setting things on the counter for her, while Duo was content to fall into a nearby chair and prop his feet up onto the table.

"Girl, must you bloody scream every time you come back?" Locke's deep voice washed over the kitchen, as he came in rubbing a rather large red spot on his forehead.

"Just keeping your reflexes up, old man," she replied, sending him a cheeky grin.

Locke gave her a dry look before his eyes drifted over to Trowa's tall figure.

"Another boy? Who the hell is this one?" Locke demanded, his voice becoming stony.

"Take a chill pill, gramps. This is Trowa. He helped me out early at Sector Six because _someone_ wasn't around to help me fix my bike."

Locke rolled his eyes. "Learn how to fix your own damn bike." He opened the fridge and stuck his head in.

Alice bristled. "I don't need to _learn_ anything. I need _parts_—the ones you promised to order _two weeks_ ago."

Locke appeared with a beer in hand. "Yeah, yeah, whatever." He waved her off, using his metal hand to pop the cap of the bottle clear off. "You stop bringing strays home, and I'll order those parts."

Alice turned bright red. "What? He isn't my stray—and that one's _your_ stray!" She jabbed a finger in Duo's direction.

Duo tried to make himself as small as possible.

"Whatever you say, kid." Locke declared, taking a swig of his beer and waltzing out of the kitchen.

Alice made a noise of frustration and nearly took Trowa's head off throwing a pot onto a self.

"Oh, and Duo." Locke reappeared in the doorway. "If I ever see you with your feet on my table again, I'll cut them off." And then he was gone.

Duo nearly toppled off his chair in his hurry. That man scared the shit out of him.

Alice snorted.

Duo sent her a glare. "I don't know what you're laughing at babe. You just got told." The only response Duo got was a rag to the face.

"Okay, strays, its go time." Alice declared, shoving Duo off the chair.

"Hey, babe, watch the merchandise. I'm not built of steel, you know?"

"Oh stop whining, baby."

"You're killing me babe—killing me."

"Yeah?—Good. Maybe you'll stop coming back, and I can finally get my parts." Alice propped open the door and motioned them both out.

Duo sent her a cheeky grin. "In your dreams, Alice."

She just rolled her eyes. "Yeah, yeah, now get out of here."

Duo and Trowa filed out.

"Wait—Trowa," Alice called out. "Thanks again for today. If you ever want a free meal, show up with this buffoon one night and I'll feed, you, okay? Then we'll be even."

Trowa nodded up at her.

"How come I don't get a 'thank you'?" Duo whined.

Alice sent him a smirk. "Because you were late."

Duo groaned.

* * *

It was nearing midnight by the time Trowa and Duo waltzed through the doorway of Quatre's apartment—stealthily, of course—there was a fifty-fifty chance that Quatre might be awake, a probability depending completely on the hour of his first meeting the next morning.

Ah, the life of a teenage CEO.

The urgency of utmost silence was understood between the two ex-pilots, who without a word to each other crept down the hallway to their own respective guest rooms.

Maybe Duo was just feeling masochistic that day or maybe he was—dare he believe it—feeling guilty, but he couldn't stop the urge he had to at least explain himself—or something.

He knew he had lied. He knew he had purposely hidden the truth. He knew he had on some level betrayed Trowa.

And so he paused before disappearing into his bedroom and opened his mouth.

"Trowa, man, I—er—I just want to—"

Trowa lifted a hand to stop him. Whatever Duo had been planning to word vomit died in his throat.

"Duo," he said finally, "I understand."

Rendered speechless, Duo just bobbed his head mechanically.

Trowa turned to walk back his room, but paused in the threshold.

"Let's not mention this to Quatre, okay?"

Duo nodded furiously.

"Of course, man."

"And, I've decided I'm coming with you again tomorrow."

And with that, Trowa's door clicked shut.

Duo let out a breath he hadn't realized he had been holding.

Well, that could have been worse—a lot worse.

He was a little peeved Trowa was coming back again tomorrow, but he would get over it. If having Trowa follow him around like a lost puppy was the only consequence to this train wreck of a day, he could live with that.


	9. Ain't No Rest For the Wicked

**So I've been pretty uninspired lately. Sorry that's resulted in not doing anything with the story. Thanks for sticking with the story though.**

* * *

**We Were Promised Jetpacks**

_Ain't No Rest for the Wicked_

* * *

Trowa couldn't sleep.

It was that simple.

He lay in bed wide awake staring up at the ceiling. The same ceiling he had been staring at for the last three hours. And he still wouldn't be able to say a thing about it.

Because, though his eyes were upward, his mind's eye was elsewhere. He lay there replaying scene after scene, exchange after exchange, memory after memory.

His expression never changed. His body never moved. He just sat there staring up the ceiling, slowly torturing himself with memories past and recent that he could neither change nor fully decipher.

The events of the previous day were a particular focus point.

He ran through every detail of the entire encounter—from the moment she opened the door to the moment she closed it hours later. And then he compared. Every expression, every gesture, every anything—he compared to every memory he had of Nicole.

And he did again, and again, and again.

But what stuck out most of—what really kept him up until four in the morning—was _her _words.

"_You're one of those quiet people, aren't you?" _

Trowa blinked.

"_It's refreshing, you know?"_

* * *

_It was late. Late enough that Peacemillion's main hanger was completely deserted, which put the time somewhere between four and five in the morning, though he had always felt that distinctions such as morning and night seemed suddenly meaningless in space. Among other thing._

_He stood leaning against the railing high above the floor of the hanger. The walkway was eye level with Heavyarms and the other gundams. He slowly relaxed his body. _

_He found himself coming there time and time again when the hanger was empty. He was drawn to it. Somehow, this place was where he found…peace? That wasn't right. There was no peace for him—not yet, at least. _

_He closed his eyes. _

_No, he found…comfort. The height reminded him of the circus—of walking tight ropes, of taming animals, of Catherine… _

"_Hey!" _

_Trowa's eyes popped open, and he pushed off from the railing. A small redhead was approaching him from the far end of the walkway. Even at such a distance he could tell that her skin and clothes were covered in black smudges and that the way in which she walked suggested that she may as well be dead on her feet. However, she approached him with a wide smile, even though Trowa was sure they had never met. _

_Of course, he knew who she was—the mechanic girl who worked on their gundams. She was also close to Duo, whether that was a good thing or not he wasn't sure. _

"_It's nice to see I'm not the only one crazy enough to be up at this hour." _

_Trowa didn't reply, a fact that didn't seem to bother her, as she kept on talking. _

"_I don't think we've officially met. I'm Nicole Hawkins," she told him brightly, sticking out her hand. _

_Trowa looked down and crossed his arms. _

"_Oh, right, forgot," she mumbled, turning red, "my hands are covered in god-knows-what." She subtly tried to wipe them on her pants. _

"_Call me Trowa—Trowa Barton," he said simply. _

"_Barton, eh?" She gave him a knowing little smile before shrugging. "Cool name." _

_And with that she plopped down on the edge of the platform and let her legs dangle off. _

_Trowa finally let himself return to his position on the opposite railing. The girl clearly wasn't going anywhere, and he was nowhere near ready to head to bed. Though, give her a few minutes of his silence and she would disappear, and he would get his…comfort back. _

"_Amazing view, isn't it?" she said suddenly, voice hushed in wonder. "Right in front of us are the very pinnacles of technology of our era. These machines are the most sophisticated proof of mankind's ability to build and create." _

_She broke off for a moment. _

"_And—ironically—to destroy." _

_She seemed to physically sag under the weight of such a paradox, or maybe her lack of sleep was simply catching up with her. _

"_But it's easy to fool yourself into seeing only their beauty when they sit there like that. All still and quiet. It's easy to forget that they're killing machines designed for only one purpose—to destroy." _

"_No." _

_Nicole turned round to look at him. Her expression showed her surprise. She raised an eyebrow. "No?"_

"_They can bring peace. That's their purpose now—to bring about peace for the colonies. And Earth. That is the purpose of the gundams. And the gundam pilots," he stated simply. _

_Nicole stared at him, as if she had never really seen anything like him before. _

"_Bringers of peace, huh?" she asked, turning back to the gundams. "That's a pretty lofty goal, especially for those five. But that fits the paradox, doesn't it? Made for destruction—bringing about peace."_

_She let out a wistful sigh. "That's a dream I'd be willing to believe in." _

_Nicole then leaned back and began rummaging through some pockets in her pants. She pulled out two bright shiny apples. Trowa had barely caught sight of them before one was flying at his face. He plucked it out of the air easily. _

"_Now what about you pilots, hmm?" she asked with a cheeky tone. _

_She took a large bite out of her apple. Trowa waited patiently for her to finish chewing, the slightest bit curious about where she was taking the conversation—if one could even call it that. _

"_Ever heard that absolute power corrupts absolutely?" Her tone was light, but Trowa sensed there was a deep seriousness to her words. "Gundams are as close to absolute power you can get nowadays. What's to keep you five in line then? So gundams can bring peace, but what about you? Can you bring peace?"_

_A long while passed in a silence disturbed only by the sounds of Nicole biting into her apple. _

_Trowa carefully turned over her words. Could they be trusted to bring peace? _

_This wasn't their fight necessarily. All five of them could just as easily walk away and let mankind blow each other up. _

_But they didn't. _

_Though they were tired of fighting—tired of the endless battles, the endless enemies, the endless politics, the endless waltz that was this war—they didn't. _

_They were reluctant soldiers. Simple as that. They didn't want nor did they ask for this war, nor this responsibility, but that didn't change the fact that they alone had the means and the abilities. These were their gundams—_their_ responsibility—and no one else's—for better or worse. Each of them had to accept that and move forward. And then—maybe they could make a difference. _

"_Yes," he said finally. _

_Nicole turned to look at him with a hard stare. Trowa met her gaze. _

"_You're the quiet type, aren't you, Trowa?" _

_Trowa blinked—the only outward sign of his surprise. _

_Nicole gave him a grin before turning away again. "Don't take that the wrong way—it's a good thing. Quiet people are underrated nowadays, but I've always wanted to be a quiet person. I tend to talk and preach a lot—and ramble. I do a lot of rambling. So, I've always had a lot of respect for people like you—those that can say just what they mean in a handful of words. No bullshit, no lies, just pure, straightforward bluntness. It's refreshing, you know?" _

_Trowa raised an eyebrow at the girl's back. She was certainly…something. Unusual? Odd? Honest? _

_Maybe he was beginning to see why Duo was so drawn to her. _

_Before he even realized it, he found himself taking a bite out of the apple in his hands._

* * *

Trowa turned to look at the clock. It blinked back at him the time five in the morning. He stared at it a moment longer before making up his mind.

And then he pulled back the covers and slipped out of bed. He walked out of his room and into the hallway without making a sound.

It was a rare moment in this time of peace that the skills he picked up in his soldiering days were appropriate.

Besides, he knew Duo wouldn't miss his video games—at least not until he woke up.

* * *

Trowa had been waiting for him by the door.

To say Duo had been disappointed was an understatement. He had hoped—_like prayed_—that Trowa had forgotten, or had oversleep, or had mysteriously died in his sleep. But, _no_—that would be just _too_ much to ask from the universe, wouldn't it?

In record time, Duo, and Trowa, of course, arrived in front of Locke's shop. Duo reached forward to open the door, but before he had even grasped the handle, the door swung open.

"Excuse me, I'm so sorry—oh, it's just you."

Duo put on an upset face. "So this is the kind of welcome I get? You're killing me, babe."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever Mr. Dramatic," Alice said dismissively, shuffling past him with familiarly large cardboard boxes. She paused though upon spotting Trowa.

"Oh—Trowa," Alice exclaimed, "didn't expect to see you so soon."

Trowa didn't really respond outwardly, unless a barely detectable shrug and nod counted.

"Actually—I don't mean to be a pain or anything—but are you—er—busy? Like now-ish?"

Trowa blinked. "I'm not. I was just dropping Duo off."

Duo sputtered in the background. "Dropping off? What are you? My babysitter?"

His comments were ignored by both parties.

"Well, if you're free, you wouldn't mind helping me out again today, would you? I don't mean to take advantage of your kindness or anything, but I could really use the help. It'd be the same deal as yesterday."

Trowa nodded and reached forward to take one of the boxes. "Sure."

Duo rolled his eyes and resisted the urge to stomp his foot, but obligingly approached Alice and reached for the other box.

"And just what do you think you're doing?" came the sharp rebuttal.

"Helping?"

"Nu-uh, mister." Alice shook her head with an ever-growing smirk. "You missed work yesterday, and Locke has a nicely sized pile of work waiting for you. Have fun!"

She gave him a cheeky little wave and took off down the alleyway with Trowa in step.

Someone, somewhere, hated him.

The door had just barely closed behind Duo when a voice rang out, scaring the crap out of him.

"We need to talk."

"Jesus, Locke! Could you be any creepier?"

"Sit down."

The expression on Locke's face made it clear that he wasn't in the mood for jokes, a fact Duo was catching on to. His solemnity meant whatever he wanted to 'talk' about was pretty heavy and more likely than not meant trouble for Duo.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm coming gramps—keep your pants on." Duo threw himself onto the chair opposite the man. He almost propped his feet up on the rickety metal kitchen table, but thinking back to the night before he winced. He considered it in his best interest to keep his feet glued to the floor.

"So what's got you so glum, old man?" Duo said, not hesitating to stretch back and fold his arms behind his head.

"I want to know about that other boy you brought here," he deadpanned.

"You mean Trowa?" Duo let out a chuckle. "Gramps, Trowa is the last person you need to worry about. He wouldn't hurt a fly—at least not now anyway." Duo paused and seemed to reconsider his words. "Okay maybe if provoked—but you definitely don't have to worry about him hanging around Alice. She's probably a million times safer that way actually. So don't be worrying you're pretty wrinkled head about it."

Locke didn't look the slightest bit amused or satisfied with Duo's little monologue.

"Okay, fine, I'll bite." Duo leaned forward and propped his elbows on the table. "What do you really want to know, and what makes you so nervous about Trowa?"

"How do you known him?"

"Curious bastard, aren't you?" he told him with a bitter edge to his voice. Duo let out a great big sigh. "He's another gundam pilot—the pilot of 03—otherwise known as Heavyarms—the one that runs out of bullets."

Locke narrowed his beady eyes. "Another gundam pilot? Whoever that girl used to be was mixed up in some serious mess."

Duo gritted his teeth to keep himself from commenting.

"But I don't trust that Trowa fellow. Gundam pilot or not, I really don't give a damn, but that kid worked for OZ at one point, and I never had and will never trust any of those bastards—reformed or not."

Duo blinked. Trowa working for OZ? What the hell was grandpa talking about? Trowa never worked for—

Duo let out a bark of a laugh. "You got it all wrong, gramps—very, very wrong." Duo took a moment to recover.

"Trowa never worked for OZ—not really at least. When OZ came to the colonies and offered peace, and the colonies retarded accepted, we gundam pilots were left without any support or any way to overtly fight OZ up here in the colonies. So, T-man, there, did what he did best and went undercover in OZ and became one of their top pilots and sabotaged them from inside. I'm kind of reluctant to admit it, you see, but when I was stupid and got myself captured by OZ without Trowa's help—I would have been a goner." Duo let out a sigh. "So there you go gramps—no need to worry! Trowa passes all of your little background checks with flying colors—trust me."

Duo suddenly got very serious. He leaned forward and lowered his voice.

"But I can't help but wonder, _Curtis_, is how you came about such _information_. It wasn't like it was public knowledge Trowa went undercover in OZ back in the day. And, on the subject of sketchiness, how about that underground pseudo-military base you got hidden under our feet, huh? What's a so-called _civilian_ like yourself doing with technology like that?"

Locke avoided his gaze and was steadily burning a hole through the table. The lines on his face seemed more distinct, and for the first time since he had met him, Duo felt that Locke finally looked his age.

"You gonna share your sob story, or not, old man?"

Locke jerked his gaze up and sent him a look strong enough to knock a lesser man out of his chair.

"OZ killed my wife and took my arm and leg. I built this place to retaliate against them. White Fang appeared, and I offered them all the financial and military support I could. And then White Fang goes and starts an even bigger war. I was angry I couldn't fight. My son decided to fight for me and got himself killed. I lost everything because of OZ and my stupid, revenge driven mistakes, so don't fuck with me kid. I have my reasons."

Duo gave a grim smirk. "Yeah? Well so do I. And so does Trowa. So the same applies to you."

Locke slammed his fist onto the table. Duo jumped. "Jesus, gramps, think of your blood pressure."

"Look kid, I've been allowing you to live out whatever little plan you have, but I need to make something real clear to you before you get too deep."

Duo raised an eyebrow, not really following.

"Alice has no desire to remember anything about her past." Locke took a deep breath. "She has an almost ridiculous hatred for war and mobile suits and everything that has anything to do with those two. And I have no intention of telling her about her accident or my guesses at her past as long as that remains true."

Duo was speechless.

"You might want to consider that you're fighting a losing battle, kid, and throw in the towel before you get hurt. As far as I'm concerned, this is for the best. However she was involved with you people will not sit well with the Alice of today. It might even tear her apart. So maybe you should consider that it might just be better for you to disappear back to wherever you came from and let her live out this peace in _peace_."

Duo gritted his teeth and clenched his hands to the point he was sure he had broken skin.

"Look—I understand you mean well, Gramps," Duo said through clenched teeth, "but you didn't know the Nicole I knew. Her life, what she did, and the person who she was—it's not something to be ashamed of."

Locke crossed his arms.

"Then tell me."

Duo let out a big, showy sigh.

"Look, she wasn't a soldier—her hands were as sparkly clean as you can get. She was a mechanic who believed in peace and who dreamed of setting foot on Earth. And the Nicole I knew died to keep that dream alive—to save the Earth she wanted to see so bad."

Duo looked down to hide the look in his eyes. "Fucking ironic, wasn't it?"

The sound of chair scraping against floor caught Duo's attention. He looked up to see Locke's retreating back.

"You got work to do, kid. Don't think you can just miss a day and keep skipping along."

Duo supposed that was Curtis' way of telling him that he could stick around for a little longer.


	10. Pillars of Salt and Sand

**Two for one special today. **

* * *

**We Were Promised Jetpacks**

_Pillars of Salt and Sand_

* * *

It was getting dark by the time Trowa and Alice were making their way back towards the more well-lit part of the colony, empty boxes in hand. The day had passed much like the one before, minus the aggressive confrontation with Luke, who seemed to tolerate Trowa's presence far more than Duo's.

Trowa supposed it might have been because he was quieter and overall less obtrusive than Duo. It was a trait that had served him well in the past in his gundam piloting days, as he went undercover in both OZ and then among Mariameia's troops.

"Your arm," Trowa began, breaking the silence, "what happened to it?"

Alice seemed startled. "My arm?" she asked genuinely puzzled. "Oh, you mean the prosthetic?"

Trowa nodded. "It's a pretty extreme injury to see on someone your age."

Alice sent him a look. "I'm not _that_ young." She paused and looked down to stare intently at her hands as she flexed them. "But I guess you have a point—it is a sort of _unusual_ injury for someone like me to have." Her voice contained a bitter edge to it.

"So how did it happen?" Trowa asked again, with an air of casualness, hiding his very real interest in the answer.

Alice went quiet for a few moments. "I know this'll probably sound pretty stupid, but I actually don't know."

Trowa raised an eyebrow.

She went silent again and seemed to seriously consider her next words.

"Look, I don't normally blab my life story to strangers, but, I have to say, you don't strike me as a very talkative guy, if you get what I mean."

"I've been told that before."

Alice let out a small laugh. "Good—that means I'm not the only one who got that impression."

Her face got suddenly very serious. "Two years ago I was found by Locke in some wreckage in space. I must have been involved in some hell of an accident because I was in pretty bad shape. He took me to the hospital here, but the injuries to my left arm were too extensive and they couldn't save it. A month and half later I woke up and didn't remember a thing... So, yeah, I don't know how I lost my arm."

She shrugged her shoulders and clasped her hands behind her back, as if to prove how much it didn't bother her.

Trowa's mind was working on overdrive turning her words over. He was brought back to reality, as Alice began speaking again unprompted.

"I'll tell you something, though. Locke would never tell me any details so I eventually did some digging myself. Through a couple of hacks into the hospital data base, I was able to find the official date of my admittance. I did some research and apparently a few days before there had been like this _huge_ battle right near this colony—a battle that ended a long war between Earth and the colonies. Sound familiar?" Alice faltered. "That's a stupid question, of course it does—nothing's wrong with your memory. It seems like I'm the only one who doesn't…"

Her expression darkened for a moment.

"But you know, I was thinking that if I was found in some wreckage…that maybe I got caught up in that battle somehow? Makes sense, right? Like wrong place, wrong time thing." She drifted off and looked down.

"At least that's what I'd like to think," she said at last.

"Instead of what? Being involved? Being a soldier?" Trowa asked with a little too much feeling in his voice. He was slipping up.

"Yeah…that. I don't like to think that I—or not-me—would have been capable of something like that. I just can't stand the thought of it," Alice finished, voice shaky with emotion.

"Sector Six…that's the result of war—of fighting. Those kids, orphaned and alone, are what comes of fighting wars. Regardless of which side you're on, whether your cause is right or not, people die. And people are left behind. There's nothing more selfish than fighting a war."

Her words hung heavily in the following silence.

"Sorry, Trowa," Alice said suddenly, back to her normal self, "I warned you I was a rambler, though you seem to bring out that side of me more than usual."

She paused and looked up at the colony's fake sky.

"I bet I sound pretty messed up, though, huh?" she said jokingly.

Trowa answered honestly. "No." He paused to consider his words. "I realize it may not sound very sincere, but I understand where you're coming from."

Alice turned to face him, brows raised.

"Really?"

Trowa nodded.

She sent him a smirk. "You just get more and more interesting by the second, Trowa Barton."

Trowa paused. That wasn't the first time she had said it.

* * *

"_Nicole."_

_His tone was frightening and all but screamed dangerous. Trowa had a mission. And as far as he was concerned she was an obstacle—one to be overcome at all costs. _

_His seriousness was lost on Nicole, who just barley spared him a glance from her place in front of the refrigerator's open door. _

"_What's shaking, Trowa?" _

_Trowa's eye narrowed. Her attempt to play dumb was almost insulting. He knew she wasn't dense enough to think he wouldn't have figured it out. And he knew she wasn't stupid enough to take his visit as anything other than hostile. _

_Though, he had to admit, he was surprised she had not gone into hiding in some corner of the ship. _

_Either way, he didn't have time to play her game. _

"_You're standing between me and my mission." _

_Nicole finally dropped her false cheeriness. She closed the door and straightened up, holding her chin high. She was not apologetic. _

"_No, I'm standing between you and your guaranteed compromising of this mission. You're hurt, and you need to recover. You'd only get in the way and get yourself killed—or worse—get Heavyarms destroyed," she told him defiantly. _

"_You don't know me or my capabilities." _

"_No?" she asked sarcastically. "Fine, then." _

_She turned her back to him, as if ending the conversation, but before Trowa could open his mouth to rekindle the argument, an apple was flying at his face. _

_His reflexes never failed him, and he caught it effortlessly. _

_However, a moment later it hit the ground. _

"_That's what I thought." Nicole gave him a cold look of grim satisfaction. She mockingly eyed the limp way his left arm dangled by his side. _

_Trowa defiantly stared back at her. _

_She rolled her eyes. "Okay, tough guy—I'll bite. How about you enlighten us lesser mortals to how the hell you plan on dealing with the extra weight of Heavyarms left arm with your own arm in that condition?" _

_Trowa said nothing, but looked down at his left hand, as if he could will it to do as he wanted. His hand opened and closed obediently, but fell short when he tried to raise the arm. _

"_I'm not reinstalling the control system," Nicole told him firmly, and with that final word she turned her back on him and crashed on the nearest couch. She stubbornly looked out of the small window on the dark vastness that was space. _

_The battle would be starting soon—anytime then really. The other gundam pilots had left almost twenty minutes ago. They would encountering the OZ soldiers soon enough. And then the light show would begin. _

_The couch dipped softly as Trowa positioned himself next to her. _

"_It's not like you to be so careless. What's gotten into you?" Nicole asked softly, though her gaze did not move. _

_Trowa was silent for a few more moments before she felt him abruptly sink deeper into the cushions. _

"_It's near the colony where Catherine is."_

_Nicole paused. The surprise was evident on her face. _

"_Catherine, huh? Never would have expected a guy like you to have a girlfriend." _

_Trowa shook his head. _

"_She's…more like an older sister," he said simply. _

_Nicole raised an eyebrow. _

"_How'd that happen?" _

"_Met her back on Earth." _

"_Ah." _

_She turned back to the window. Trowa could feel the curiosity radiating off of her, and it made the air thick. He gave in to it. _

"_On Earth I went undercover as a performer in a traveling circus. Catherine decided I needed to be—taken care of." _

"_Funny how all of you gundam pilots seem to attract people who all think alike."_

_Trowa nodded thoughtfully. _

"_They somehow made their way to space though. And when I…Catherine found me. She took me in and appointed herself my big sister. She doesn't approve of me fighting. She tried to protect me from it—to keep me from returning to this life."_

"_It obviously didn't work. It would never work. Being a gundam pilot, for better or worse, has become a part of who you are Trowa—who all of you guys are. You're a soldier and you'll keep fighting until you're no longer needed. It's tragic when you think about it. Poetic too."_

_Nicole sighed. "You'll return to her once this all over with, won't you?" _

_Trowa simply nodded. _

"_It must be nice," she whispered, "having someone to go back to—a home. Sometimes…sometimes I used to never want this war to end. Because…where would I go? What would it do? I'd be lost all over again._

"_But I found something—a dream. I'm going to Earth. I'm going to stand on a beach and watch the waves of the ocean. For it to happen all this fighting has to stop and I be no longer needed._

"_Pretty selfish, huh?"_

_Trowa crossed his arms. "Humans are selfish." _

_Nicole let out a bitter laugh. _

"_I suppose you're right."_

* * *

Trowa and Duo arrived at the apartment later that night to find it in a state of absolute chaos. A frazzled, ragged Quatre was bustling around the rooms, throwing clothes, papers, and anything it seemed he could lay hands on into a suitcase .

"Woah, Q-man," Duo cried, "where's the fire?"

"Welcome back guys," Quatre returned distractedly.

Trowa and Duo stood there simply watching him dart back into his office and then rush back out with another pile of papers.

"Eh, better question, then—you going somewhere, Quatre?"

"Oh! Yes," Quatre cried, finally turning to face the pair. "I have to leave immediately tomorrow morning. I'm suddenly needed at the construction site, but I'll be back by tomorrow night."

Duo gave him a dumbfounded expression, while Trowa simply shifted to lean comfortably against a nearby wall, fading into the background of the conversation.

"Quatre, you can leave for longer—you certainly are packing as if you're never coming back. And I think Trowa and I have outgrown babysitters."

Quatre waved him off. "I have unfinished business here too. And I'm hoping to have a meeting first thing Wednesday morning if everything goes according to plan."

Duo threw his hands in the air exasperatedly.

"I'm telling you, man, you need to take a serious vacation. This cannot be good for your health. But if you want to send yourself to an early grave, be my guest. I'll make sure they put bunches of smelly flowers on your grave."

Duo gave him a lopsided smirk and made his way towards his room, waving behind him.

"I'll see you on the other side man."

Quatre just smiled softly at his retreating back.

"Oh, Duo…"

Suddenly another pile of papers made its way into his hands. He turned to find Trowa leaning against the couch.

"He has a point."

Quatre sighed.

"Yes, I know. But this is something that is very important to me. I want—no need—to come back and take care of it…"

Quatre drifted off and stared down at his nearly bursting briefcase.

"It's more of a…personal matter."

He was startled out of his gaze by a weight on his shoulder.

"We'll see you Wednesday then."

Trowa then disappeared down the hallway as well.

Quatre's gaze stayed locked on the space he just occupied. He couldn't help the warmth that spread through his chest.

"We've all come so far…"


	11. World on Fire

**The action's going to be picking up from here on out. **

* * *

**We Were Promised JetPacks**

_World on Fire_

* * *

"It's good to see you again, Rashid." Quatre said warmly, stepping into the town car.

"Likewise, Master Quatre. You have been greatly missed by us all," he responded in his usual deep baritone from his position in the front seat.

Quatre looked down guilty. "I'm sorry to have placed the burden of overseeing the construction on your shoulders…I just need to—"

"Master Quatre, please! You dishonor our services with your words. For you, we would and have done much more."

Quatre let out a small smile.

"Thank you, Rashid."

"Of course, Master Quatre. Now please, fasten your seatbelt so we may arrive at the shuttle on time."

The car fell silent.

Quatre stared out at the passing scenery, distractedly. He felt guilty for abandoning his duties. He was most needed at the construction site. No matter how Rashid and the others tried to hide the frequent efforts to sabotage the project from him, he knew they had not stopped simply when he decided to go on 'vacation'. He had knowingly skirted his responsibilities at the site in order to take care of more….personal business. However, what was worse in his eyes was the fact that he was still not able to return. Not yet. Not until he had fixed what he had done here.

It made it all the more worse that he could feel Rashid's eyes boring into him from the rear-view mirror. The worry on his face was evident.

Quatre attempted for his sake to shake off his daze and look as if he was actively watching the daily actives of the colonists walking the streets.

Simple, normal citizens with simple, normal problems.

A couple holding hands.

A mother laughing as her daughter pointed eagerly to something in a window.

An old man sweeping outside his store.

A young man—

"Stop!"

Rashid slammed on the brakes at his outburst.

"Master Quatre, what is the matter?" he wasn't even able to finish his exclamation before Quatre had darted out the car and raced down the sidewalk. Before Rashid could even utter another cry, Quatre disappeared around a corner.

Rashid had no choice but to wait.

* * *

Fifteen minutes later Quatre jogged back to the car, a defeated look on his face.

"Master Quatre, what came over you?"

"I'm sorry to have worried you like that Rashid," he said softly. "I was just so sure I had spotted…well that I had spotted Heero."

"Heero? Heero Yuy?" Rashid was shocked.

"Yes, I'm sure of it. But he disappeared before I was able to reach him," Quatre admitted looking crestfallen.

Rashid gathered his thoughts and became determined to wipe that expression off Quatre's face.

"Master Quatre, Heero is the sort of man who," Rashid paused and seemed to consider his words carefully, "is simply not found unless he wishes to be."

Quatre nodded, but it did nothing to settle the doubt and puzzlement growing inside him. He knew he had not been mistaken. It was Heero he had seen in his usual jean jacket. But what was he doing here? And now? As far as Quatre knew, Heero was still shadowing Relena, acting as her personal bodyguard. And Quatre was certain Relena was still on Earth, performing her Peacecraft duties. So why was Heero in space?

"I'm sorry to rush you Master Quatre, but we must hurry to reach the shuttle. We are already late."

"Oh, of course. I apologize, Rashid."

Rashid shook his head disapprovingly as he held the door open for the young man.

"There is nothing to apologize for, Master Quatre."

* * *

Auda's frantically waving arms greeted him as he exited the car.

"Master Quatre! Master Quatre!"

Quatre smiled at the small group of Maganacs.

"It's good to see you again, my friends," he said warmly.

Auda adjusted his glasses and planted his hands on his hips.

"We were getting worried, Master Quatre. We were about to send out a search team," he said with a wink.

"This is very out of character for you Master Quatre—being so late. We would bet our first-born sons on your timeliness."

They all let out a hearty laugh.

"I apologize for making you all wait, but I'm ready to leave immediately. Forgive me, please."

"Jeez, you don't have to apologize for giving us time to sit on our butts, Master Quatre. The honor is all ours—"

A bright flash, followed by an ear-shattering explosion hit them. A wave of blistering heat threw them off their feet.

In a mere second the shuttle and the surrounding area had become an inferno.

* * *

"Master Quatre! Master Quatre!"

Quatre painstakingly rolled his body over. Smoke clouded his vision.

"I'm here, Rashid!"

He lifted himself up, feeling waves of pain roll over his body. He went to grip his torso only to have pain shoot up his left arm. The arm was twisted at an unnatural angle and was already beginning to turn a dark purple.

"Is everyone alright?" Quatre cried, stumbling to his feet, his own injuries pushed to the back of his mind.

Rashid emerged from the gloom supporting an injured Auda. Three other figures followed behind them, in varying states of injury, but all in one piece.

Quatre let out a relieved sigh. Everyone was accounted for. It's the most he could ask for.

"Master Quatre! Your arm!"

Rashid passed Auda off to another Magnac before hurrying over to Quatre's side.

"It looks worse than it feels—I swear."

The four behind let out a laugh.

"Oh, brave Master Quatre."

Quatre gave a sad smile. Only the Magnacs could laugh at a time like this.

Sirens sounded in the distance.

Quatre closed his eyes for a moment.

Nothing seemed to make sense anymore.

* * *

The room was packed, and Quatre felt claustrophobia begin to set in from his vantage point in its center. His arm ached and his whole body felt battered and bruised. All he would have liked to do is move; however, every one of the ten occupants of the room would have his head if he even attempted such.

It was less than three hours after the explosion. Most of the Magnaccs came out relatively unscathed, save a few broken bones. Quatre himself had dislocated both his shoulder and elbow and suffered a minor concussion.

However, the situation was too dire to allow time for rest just yet.

Duo spoke first.

"Well aren't you having an exciting month, Quatre?," he said mockingly. "First project sabotages and now assassination attempts. Oh the life of a teenage billionaire."

The room fell silent.

The Magnacs and Quatre had regrouped at Quatre's apartment after being released from the hospital. There they encountered Trowa and Duo, who had both felt the explosion rock the colony and heard the news as it literally overtook every channel and radio station. Something of this magnitude had not happened to the colony since the end of the war. They were all just simply lucky enough that the explosion didn't pierce the hanger, opening them up to the vacuum of space.

"We need the media to release a statement that this was a purely equipment malfunction," Quatre voiced.

"Master Quatre," Auda cried, "this was anything but an equipment malfunction. That bomb was set to kill you and everyone in that shuttle once it cleared the colony."

"I know," Quatre relplied patiently, "but we can't let the public realize that."

"Yes, the last thing we need is to attract unneeded attention to these acts. The only question is how we are to proceed for here," Rashid added.

Everyone took a moment to think over the actions, but surprisingly it was Duo that spoke up first.

"Well it's obvious that these people are getting ballsy-er. Maybe if the shuttle had exploded in space like they planned it could have been chalked up to 'mechanical malfunction', but with all the debris in the hanger, even the rookie colony police force can figure out that it was a bomb. They practically sent out a sign flashing sign saying: 'We're after the Winner Corporation'."

"Or maybe the target is simply Quatre," Trowa put forth, without expression.

Everyone took a moment to let the words sink in.

"Who could possibly want to hurt Quatre?" Duo questioned skeptically. "The guy's a saint."

"We have all collected enemies over the years," Trowa pointed out. He then turned his gaze on Quatre expectantly.

Quatre looked apologetic. "I don't know."

Quatre didn't pretend that he hadn't made enemies during his gundam days; however, he would never have guessed that those grudges would have lasted throughout the peace, even going so far as wanting him dead. Regardless, targeting him was fine, but putting his friends in danger was unacceptable.

"We still need the message to go out to media, so we need to contact Sally."

Duo pushed off from the wall. "I'll handle that, Q-man."

Rashid stepped forward suddenly. "Regardless, the first priority is Master Quatre's safety."

"Security can be doubled—"

"I do not believe that will be enough," Rashid countered. "I propose for you to disappear for a time. At least until more information can be gathered on these acts and those responsible."

"Sounds like a good plan, but how exactly are we going to accomplish that?" Duo asked. "The kid has one of the most public faces in the world. He'll draw attention wherever he'll go."

"Maybe he won't have to go anywhere."

All eyes turned to Trowa.

"A decoy," he said simply. " Quatre stays put, but a decoy is seen leaving the colony."

Duo smirked. "I like it—very sneaky."

"No, for the plan to work all of the Magnacs will need to be seen leaving as well, leaving Quatre defenseless here," Rashid declared.

"Hey!" Duo protested. "What the hell are we?" He motioned to himself and Trowa. "It may have been two years since the end of the war, but I can promise you that Trowa and I still have enough game to take on these cowards."

Rashid opened to his mouth to argue, but caught himself as Quatre interjected.

"I know you mean well Rashid, but I believe that that will be the best option. This is the only way I will be able to focus on uncovering exactly what is going on."

Rashid still looked doubtful, but was forced to relent under Quatre's final decision.

"However," Quatre began, "I will have to ask that we delay my supposed departure for at least another two days. I have a meeting tomorrow morning."

Duo made a noise of irritation. "What is up with you and this meeting?"

Quatre looked down ashamedly. "It's something I have to take care of," he paused to stress the next word, "personally."

"Fine," Duo said letting out an exasperated sigh. "Keep your secrets Q-man."

The guilt on Quatre's face was too much for the ex-pilot to take—now he felt guilty. That was the kind of effect Quatre had on people. "Just stop looking like you killed a puppy, okay?"

Quatre cracked a small smile. "Thanks, Duo."


	12. Moving Clocks Run Slow

**So writing this has become a bit of an addiction in the last couple days. Also, I would really appreciate some feedback on the story. Is it repetitive, entertaining, lame? I'll take any sort of comments. **

* * *

**We Were Promised Jetpacks **

_Moving Clocks Run Slow_

* * *

The bell tinkled as Duo pushed his way into the shop, followed closely by Trowa. He had resigned himself to the stoic boy's presence and had made pains to ignore his black hole of an aura, a place where all sound and fun disappeared. Seriously, the kid needed to lighten up.

His complaints about Trowa, however, had to be shoved to the back of his mind for the moment, for as he walked in his ears were assaulted with a barrage of noise uncharacteristic of the shop. This noise wasn't the sound of metal hitting metal nor was it the sound of blow torches or gears grating against each other. This sound was the banging of drawers and angry cries of frustration that were of the distinctly feminine variety.

Not one to miss out on any sort of action, Duo rushed forward, batting the tacky bead curtain out of his way. Before he knew what was happening, something had rammed into him, _hard_, and he was shoved roughly to the wall with a cry of "Move!"

He watched dazed, rubbing his aching shoulder as Alice stomped away and threw open the bathroom door with enough force to make him wince at the noise it made as it hit the wall.

That certainly was going to leave a mark.

The action was followed by more sounds of objects being thrown around and harsh curses. He moved warily down the hallway and craned his neck to peer in the open door.

The bathroom looked as if a hurricane had hit it. Drawers had been pulled from their places and lay crooked and beaten, spilling their contents on the floor, like fallen soldiers left bleeding on the battlefield.

And there in the center of the action was the storm itself, continuing its vengeful destruction: Hurricane Alice. Duo winced as more items sent flying to the floor.

Knowing he was more than likely going to regret it, he opened his mouth. "Uh, Alice?"

Like a snake coiled to strike, she whipped around, hair flying. "What!" she snapped, breath labored and face flushed. Its red color blended in with her hair, making her look very much like angry tomato. Duo didn't think she would particularly care for that comparison though and wisely kept himself from pointing it out.

"What exactly are you doing?" he decided to go with instead.

"What does it look like?" she growled. "I'm looking for bloody bobby pins, that's what!" Duo shrank back, throwing his hands in front of himself in attempt to ward off her anger. He would have liked to point out that what she was doing looked nothing like searching for whatever-the-hell-it-was and more like becoming the bathroom's personal Godzilla.

Even though everything in his male body told him to damn his curiosity and get as far as way from the angry female as possible, Duo couldn't help himself.

"Why?" he asked, voice oozing innocence. He even made his eyes a little bigger to further the effect. Sadly, it failed.

"Are you blind?" she snapped, making a jerky gesture down at herself. "Ugh, men!" she cried, throwing her hands into the air and spinning around to continue her acts of terrorism on the bathroom.

Duo finally noticed her appearance and was surprised he hadn't before. Alice was dressed in a pencil gray skirt and a white, ruffled tank top made of some sort of shiny material. She was barefoot and her hair was flying everywhere, but she had never looked so much like a woman-not a girl-not a teenager-an actual woman. And not just any type of woman, a _business _woman. The realization was oddly disturbing to him.

This feeling wasn't helped by the fact that the short sleeves revealed the entire length of her metal arm and the ugly red scars at its junction with her shoulder. Before he could filter himself he blurted out, "You're not wearing that _out,_ are you?"

So caught up in his staring, he hadn't even noticed that she had seemed to find what she was looking for and was skillfully wrapping her hair up into a bun, pins poking out from her mouth. She paused and raised an eyebrow at his reflection in the mirror until she followed his gaze. Her expression grew dark.

"I have a matching jacket," she snarled.

She then proceeded to stab the last of the bobby pins in her hair and before shoving angrily past Duo. He couldn't help but feel that she purposely let her metal arm slam into him, which hurt—_a lot_, he'd like to add. That was going to bruise.

He watched her storm past Trowa with only a barked, "hey." He didn't blame Trowa for the puzzled look he sent his way, but Duo didn't have any answers.

"Don't look at me. I have no idea what crawled up her ass and died."

Trowa raised an eyebrow at his choice of words, but Duo ignored him, choosing instead to roll his shoulder in efforts to make the pain fade.

Suddenly, Locke entered the scene, appearing in the doorway leading to the garage. He sent the two boys a scowl, clearly not thrilled to see them, and walked past them both without giving another thought to their frozen positions in the hallway. However, then he stalked past the bathroom. He froze mid stride.

Abruptly, Locke back tracked and stared into the trashed room and its mess with an ever deepening scowl. Suddenly he whipped around and barked, "What day is today?"

Duo blinked in confusion, but answered him nonetheless. "Uh, the twenty-first, I think. Why?"

Locke's expression only darkened. "That explains it," he growled, irritation evident.

"Explains what, Gramps?"

Locke sent him a hard stare. "I'd stay clear of her today," he said simply.

"Huh? What?" Duo asked, baffled. "And that didn't answer my question!"

The old man just turned and headed back the way he came. "I'm leaving. Take care of the shop." And just like that the conversation was over.

To say Duo was dumfounded was the understatement of the year. "I'm not the only one who's lost, right?"

When he didn't get a response he turned to look at Trowa who simply stared back blankly. "You're no help," he said bitterly.

* * *

She was late.

And not just late, as in late to coffee, or late to a movie, or even late for that doctor's appointment.

No, she was a much worse sort of late.

She was late to Luke's meeting with the man who wanted to rebuild Sector Six. She was late to the meeting with the man who she and Luke had to convince _not_ to evict the hundreds of orphans and lost souls who called the ruins their home.

She was _that_ sort of late—as in Luke-may-never-forgive-her-kind. And for that matter, the kind of late that if all of it ended badly, she might never forgive herself either.

Her hand pressed harder on the accelerator of the bike. It wasn't the classiest nor was it the easiest thing to drive while wearing a skirt, but it was the only thing she was comfortable driving in the garage. Also, it was small enough not to draw _too_ much attention when Locke returned home. Her hopes were that she could sneak it back in before he got the chance to notice and consequently punish her with thirty-six hour shifts again. She shivered at the thought.

Suddenly, she spotted the building up ahead and dodged dangerously through traffic to reach it, coming to a loud, sputtering stop at its glass doors and scaring the doorman half to death. She kicked the stand down and threw the keys at the doorman, not even bothering to check if he caught them or not. Her feet slapped loudly on the marble floor of the lobby, high heels clutched tightly in her hands.

She rushed the front desk, huffing. The polished woman sitting behind it gave her a look of utter shock and revulsion.

"Meeting," she gasped out between labored breaths. She really did need to get back into shape. "Sector Six—what—floor?"

The lady was too appalled to form words.

Alice was reaching her breaking point. "Before I die of old age," she snapped, glancing at her nametag, "_Chelsea_."

An excruciatingly long thirty seconds of paper shuffling, keyboard clicking, and admonishing stares later, the woman finally gave her an answer. "Ninth floor."

"Finally!" she cried. "Now, which way are the stairs?"

Chelsea was so surprised that her judging countenance faded. "Stairs? The elevators are there to the right," she explained as though speaking to a child.

Alice rolled her eyes. "I don't give a damn where the elevators are. Where are the stairs?" she gritted out through clenched teeth.

"But it's nine floors up—"

She slammed her high heels on the counter. "The stairs, woman!"

Borderline fearful, Chelsea motioned mutely to the left. Alice took off at a sprint without sparing her another look.

Perhaps that had been a little…_rude_ of her, but whatever got the job done, she supposed. Her main focus was Sector Six, not some pretty, sophisticated secretary named Chelsea.

Minutes later, she burst onto the ninth floor, wheezing. The woman sitting behind the desk gave her a horrified look.

"Sector Six meeting," she panted, "_now."_

The woman pointed wordlessly at the far door.

Alice rushed over, but was stopped by a cry from the woman. She turned ready to verbally tear the woman to shreds, but the words died in her throat at the woman's look of honest concern.

"You're shoes," she whispered, motioning frantically with her hands.

Alice looked down at her bare toes and nearly died of embarrassment. Not only would she have stormed in late, but _barefoot_ as well. She may as well have dug her own grave and saved Luke the trouble.

"Thank you," she mouthed back, hopping gracelessly into her high heels. With a sinking feeling in her gut, she knocked and pushed into the room.

* * *

Alice was sure she was going to hurl. Never had she felt so out of place as she did in that room, standing in front of its long table and between its polished wood walls. Ten sets of eyes were glued on her, making her feel very much like a piece of art on display.

Oh god, screw vomiting, she was going to pass out.

Standing under the scrutinizing gaze of these professional, refined men and women made her conscious of all of her faults and how much it showed she didn't belong there. She felt like a piece of modern art at an impressionist art show, awkward, obtuse, and misunderstood.

She became painfully aware of how she couldn't seem to walk, or even stand, in high heels without wobbling, of how hard she was breathing and how flushed her face must be, and of how all that damn time she spent looking for the bobby pins was a waste because she was pretty confident that half of them fell out somewhere between the motorcycle and the sprint up the stairs.

_Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck—_

"Ms. Alice?"

"Huh?" she blurted out. Her face turned an even darker red. "Um—I mean, yes?"

The man who had spoken to her was intimidatingly tall with dark hair, dark skin, dark eyes—dark everything. He stood protectively behind the seat at the head of the table. Alice had trouble taking her eyes off of him.

"Please, take a seat next to Mr. Luke," he said in a heavy accent, motioning to an open seat near the end of the table. Alice had to keep herself from sprinting over to the chair, desperate to get all of these eyes off of her.

However, one look at Luke's face and she promptly wished she could remain standing for as long as possible. His stare spelled death. She swallowed her fears and walked slowly towards him, attempting not to fall flat on her face. One more straw and she was sure she would be the first person to literally _die_ from embarrassment.

Luke turned in his seat to give her the full force of his glare. Alice responded by attempting to literally disappear into her seat when abruptly his brows knitted together in confusion. She momentarily panicked that something was wrong with her face when she noticed he wasn't starting _at _her, but _over_ her.

She turned to follow his gaze and caught sight of the most painfully earnest eyes she had even seen, which just so happened to be staring right back. His gaze was intense and probing, and she fidgeted wondering how a pair of eyes could express so much, be so _open_—

A clearing of a throat broke her train of thought.

"Alice, this is Mr. Winner, the man who is intending to rebuild Sector Six."


	13. Sorry Doesn't Cut It

**I'm on a major roll.**

* * *

**We Were Promised Jetpacks**

_Sorry Doesn't Cut It_

* * *

The walk down the stairs after the meeting with Luke was flat out painful. The amiable and pleasant show he put on was dropped the second the stairway door closed. Even though she knew it was going to happen—she couldn't in all honesty convince herself that Luke had simply _forgotten _that she had been twenty minutes late, no matter how hard she wanted it to be true—she had let herself buy into the act for a few moments. This fact made his three sixty turn around sting all the more.

"Luke—" she started pleadingly, but flinched when Luke spun around, expression livid.

"What? You want to say sorry for nearly costing us _everything_ we've worked so hard for? You want to say sorry for embarrassing yourself and I in front of a bunch of stuck up rich guys who already think we're street rats? You want to say sorry for nearly costing everyone in Sector Six the only pathetic excuse for a home they have?" He was breathing hard by the time he was finished. "Well?"

Alice felt tears sting her eyes. She clenched her fists at her sides. "Yes."

Luke gave her a scornful look, hard brown eyes boring into her. "Yes, what?"

"Yes, I'm sorry for all of that and anything and everything else I screwed up today!" she shouted at him.

Luke just took a step up so they're faces were level with each other. He leaned close.  
"Are you?" he spoke harshly. "Are you really? Because you know what, not all of us have had the privilege of having some old guy take us in, baby us, feed us, clothe us, and give us work. I should have expected you wouldn't be dedicated to this. Why would you? None of this affects you—none of this matters to you—"

The sound of a loud slap echoed throughout the stairwell.

"You—you—_ass_!" she screamed, voice cracking. Luke's cheek had already begun turning bright red, as had Alice's, flushed with indignant anger. "You don't know anything!"

"Well then why don't you tell me?" he bit back.

"Fine!" she cried throwing her arms into the air. "I woke up _late_." She stabbed a finger at his chest. "I realized I started my _period_ overnight,"—stab—"_ruined_ my sheets,"—stab—"realized I was out of _tampons_,"—stab-"couldn't find my blouse or freaking _bobby pins_," —stab—"stubbed my _toe_," —stab—"had Duo point out just how _ugly _my scars are," —stab—"and to top it off we were out of freaking _yogurt,_ which is the only thing that stands between me and the worst _cramps_ of my _life!" _she paused huffing from the effort. "That _good_ enough for you?"

Luke's eyes had steadily grown larger through her tirade, which seemed to grow in volume after each stab. It took him a moment or two to finally respond. "You're such a _girl_," he said, outright astonished at this revelation.

Alice let out a scream of frustration and stormed by him.

"_Fuck _boys!"

* * *

Alice had never been so livid—so_ pissed_—in her life. She stomped through the lobby not giving a passing thought to the stares she was getting—which may have had something to do with her bright red face and her lack of shoes—nor the people who were swerving dangerously to avoid her path.

Something, or _someone_, was going to suffer.

"Ms. Alice?"

To hell with Luke. He didn't know _anything_. He didn't know how hard it had been to find a jacket and shirt set to fit her arm. He didn't know how long she had spent shopping—yes, _shopping_—for the damn outfit and heels she could barely walk in.

"Ms. Alice?"

He didn't know how many extra hours she had had to put in with Locke to afford the damn clothes. He didn't know how she had had to painstakingly wrap her shoulder that morning to keep the cheap jacket from irritating her scars.

"Alice?"

_Screw Luke! _

"Alice?"

"What the hell do you want?" she cried, spinning to face Luke.

Except it wasn't Luke's hard, cold brown eyes staring back at her, but the open, earnest blue eyes from the meeting.

Alice slapped her hands to her face, letting out a squeak of pain as the high heels she forgot she was holding smacked her. Her cheeks burned. God, what _hadn't _she done wrong in front of this guy?

"I'm so sorry to have startled you." Hot damn, even his voice was oozing honesty. "Are you alright?"

Alice pulled herself together. "No, no, no." Well, she tried.

He looked on with patience, giving her a moment to _really _pull herself together. "Eh, what I meant to say was that, uh," she paused, floundering for words, "that you shouldn't be apologizing. I've done nothing but be a complete spaz around you. If anyone should be apologizing, it's me."

His expression got even softer, which was feat she couldn't believe possible. For a rich, teenage CEO, this guy wasn't as much of an asshole as she expected.

"Spaz?" he chuckled, a sound so soft it would be better suited on a girl. "You mean being late, I assume." She nodded dumbly. "Don't worry about that. I felt it was a refreshing break from the legal jargon being thrown around."

Alice could do no more than stupidly open her mouth and say, "Oh."

He gave her a warm smile.

"Alice?"

So caught up with the exchange, she didn't even notice Luke approaching until he had come to stand next to her.

"Where do you—" he stopped abruptly, finally catching sight of who she was talking to. "Mr. Winner."

"Luke," he nodded back, amicably. "I was just about to ask Alice out for a cup of coffee."

Two sets of jaws dropped.

Where the _hell _did that come from?

Luke seemed to come out of the stupor first. "I'm sorry—can you repeat that?"

Quatre just smiled on, oblivious or blatantly ignoring the shock and disbelief broadcasted on their faces.

"I was going to ask Ms. Alice here to coffee. You're welcome to join. I would like to hear a more first-hand view of Sector Six. As someone who doesn't live there, yet visits frequently, I believe she has a unique perspective in the matter."

Alice's brain still hadn't caught up with the conversation. So when Luke placed a hand on her shoulder and sent her a smirk, she should have been alarmed. Scratch alarmed, she should have been flat out scared. Instead, she continued mimicking a goldfish.

"Actually, I've got something to take care of, but Alice would love to."

And with that she reentered the conversation.

"I would love-to-what-now?" she sputtered.

"Go to coffee with Mr. Winner," Luke explained slowly with an unnaturally wide grin.

Alice gave him a horrified look. Her mind raced. Luke was doing this on purpose as revenge for being late. Well, she wouldn't be thrown to the lion's that easily.

"Would you excuse Luke and I for a moment, Mr. Winner?" she said, voice sugary sweet.

"Please," Mr. Winner interjected, "call me Quatre. Mr. Winner was my father."

She shot him a fake smile and nodded. "Quatre then. Excuse us." With that she grabbed Luke's arm and dragged him away.

"What the _hell _do you think you're doing?" she hissed, once they got out of hearing distance.

"Trying to give us a little more sway in the decisions," he whispered back harshly, jerking his arm out of her grip.

"And just how exactly is that related to _this_, pray tell?"

Luke rolled his eyes. "You really are an oblivious idiot sometimes, you know?" Alice flushed with indignation. "And really are such an _ass_, you know?"

He pretended not to hear her and continued speaking. "He was _staring _at you the _entire _meeting."

Alice's voice got squeaky. "He was _not_!"

He looked at her as if she were slow. "Everyone_, _and I mean _everyone_, noticed. He wasn't exactly being subtle about it either." He rolled his eyes. "Typical spoiled brat."

Her mouth opened and closed for a few moments without any sound coming out.

He looked down at her angrily. "Snap out of it! You have a job to do. You're going to have to have coffee with the rich bastard and do _everything _you can to bring him over to our side, okay? Consider this your way to make up for being late."

Alice gave him a flat look. "Let me get this straight. You want me to seduce Quatre Winner—_the_ Quatre Winner."

Luke rolled his eyes for the umpteenth time. "No one's seducing anyone, okay? It's coffee, not a night in a hotel."

Her face flushed red at the thought. He reached up and ruffled her hair. "For all your talk, you really are just a kid, aren't you?"

"Lay off!" she said shoving his hand away. "I'm eighteen—not a toddler! And quit talking like you're so old, Mr.-I-just-turned-twenty-two."

"Yeah, yeah," he said, turning to walk away. "Go back to prince charming, okay? And remember," he sent her a hard look, "try to be pleasant."

She was going to slaughter him.

"Alice?"

She forced herself to count to five in her head to calm down. That done and smile in place, she spun to meet Quatre.

"Sorry about that—we had an, er," she realized half-way through she didn't know where she was going with that train of thought.

"A bit of a dispute?" Quatre interjected helpfully.

Alice snorted and then tried to cover it up with a cough. "That's, um, certainly one way to put it."

"Well, shall we go?" he asked, thoughtfully changing the subject and saving her from embarrassing herself any more.

She nodded and took hold of his outstretched arm. As they began walking, she eyed him out of the corner of her eye.

He was nice to look at, she supposed, with hair so blonde it was almost white and eyes the same color she imagined the ocean to be. A little on the feminine side, she had to admit, but in a way his softness was refreshing—not necessarily her type—but nice nonetheless.

As if sensing her thoughts, he glanced over at her and caught her staring. Instead of smirking or donning a smug expression at her blatantly checking him out, he simply smiled his warm, heartfelt smile.

Her stomach plummeted. She couldn't put her finger on it, but there was something hiding behind those eyes and that smile. A deep sadness—a hidden secret—an ulterior motive.

"Are you alright, Alice?" he broke into her thoughts, voice laced with concern.

She realized she hadn't moved her stare from him the entire time.

"Yeah, I'm fine. So where's this coffee place we're going?

He gave her another smile. "Just up ahead. I hope you like it. It's nothing too fancy, I'm sorry to say, but it's one of my favorites on this colony."

"It sounds perfect." She gave him her first real smile.

Sadness?—secrets?—ulterior motives?

What the hell was she thinking? This guy was practically an angel.


	14. Too Young To Fight It

**So this story has officially hit 2,000 hits! WHOOO! **

**Also thanks to Cynthia Joy Finnegan for the review. And no, Quatre isn't getting it easy. Just wait till next chapter... **

* * *

**We Were Promised Jetpacks**

_Too Young To Fight It_

* * *

She waved cheerfully at the town car as it pulled away. Her grin remained glued in place up until the moment the car turned the corner, when it promptly dropped into a frown.

She was exhausted. It was as simple as that. Her feet burned, her back ached, and her face throbbed from smiling for the last two hours. The only thing she wanted to do was take a nice long shower and go to sleep, hopefully forgetting about her awful day somewhere between.

She pushed into the store and immediately kicked off the offending high heels, right there in the doorway. Her feet trudged forward before she paused and looked back at the shoes. Locke wouldn't be happy if she left them there. It took a long moment of consideration in which she weighed the effort it would take to turn and bend over with the lecture and screams she would receive from the old man. Letting out a sigh, she gave in and scooped them up.

Her exhausted limbs dragged her past the bead curtain, down the hallway, and into the kitchen where she immediately collapsed in a chair. Her arms pillowed her head on the table. With a deep breath she closed her eyes, content to feel her muscles unwind for the time being. However, her peace wasn't to last.

"So the beast returns," a voice spoke from the doorway.

Alice chose to ignore it.

Apparently the voice didn't care for being brushed off and came to stand on the other side of the table. With a loud smack, something slammed against the table, shaking her from her relaxed position.

Her eyes popped open and glared at Duo. He returned the look with a cheeky smirk.

"So you going to apologize for being a bitch earlier?"

And that, my friends, was the straw that broke the proverbial camel's back.

Before she knew what was happening, tears stung her eyes and poured down her cheeks. Her hands flew to her face, but it was too late. Duo looked horrified, shocked, and dumbfounded all at once.

She opened her mouth to say something, but only succeeded in letting out a sob. He took a step forward, hand reaching out. The chair made a loud clatter as she knocked it over in her hurry to stand.

"Ali—" She bolted out of the room before he could finish.

* * *

Alice sat on the back porch, trying to put an end to her never ending flow of tears. She was failing. _Badly_. It was as if a dam had broken and nothing was going to stop it until the river had run dry. For clarification, she was the river. And she'd like to point out that she was pretty sure that her body should have run out of liquid about ten minutes ago. But, _no._

Behind her, the door creaked open. She flinched and pointedly looked down and to the side in an effort to hide her tear stained cheeks. Someone settled down on the step beside her. Alice held in a groan. The last person she wanted to see, much less _talk_ to, was Duo. Her mental state was not prepared to deal with his temperament.

However, moments past, and the person didn't let out as much of a whisper. No longer able to take the suspense, she peeked through her hair.

She shouldn't have been surprised really. She had been wrong about pretty much _everything _that day, so why should this have been any different?

Sitting next to her was Trowa. He leaned forward from the waist and rested his elbow on his knees, fingers laced together so he could lean his mouth upon them. The pose suited him so well, Alice couldn't help staring.

It had never been more apparent that he was everything she wasn't.

Right then, he embodied cool, quiet, calm collectedness. He was steady. He was a rock on which the waves of life crashed, but didn't move.

She, however, was a pebble, easily swept away and unable to stand up to even the force of her own emotions. She was fiery, passionate, loud, and scatter-brained. How pathetic she must look in his eyes.

A new wave of tears stung her eyes.

Of course that was the moment Trowa decided to look her way.

She 'eeped' and hid her face in shame. Her cheeks burned. She wanted more than anything for the ground to open up and swallow her whole.

And then something cold landed in her lap.

She cracked her eyes open. _Ice cream?_

A moment later a spoon followed the tub.

Without another thought, she tore open the lid and dipped the spoon in. The first bite melted in her mouth, the coldness acting like a bucket of water on her flaming emotions. Her eyes slipped closed in pure bliss.

Time passed with her eating spoonful after spoonful of the delicious sweet. She didn't try to speak until she was sure the attempt wouldn't end in a wave of tears or sobs.

"How'd you know chocolate was my favorite?" she asked in a small voice, still not daring to turn and face the boy.

"Lucky guess."

She bobbed her head robotically. Suddenly a thought hit her.

"Oh god," she cried, face flushing with embarrassment, "here I am pigging out on your ice cream and I didn't even ask if you wanted some!"

So upset by this prospect, she forgot all about hiding her face and turned to shove the ice cream at Trowa.

"I'm so sorry!"

Trowa stared at her with wide eyes, startled by her mood swing. Finally, he shook his head. "I got it for you."

Alice was rendered speechless. _For me?_

"Then we'll share it," she declared firmly, leaving no room for objections. She scooted closer and held out the spoon.

He took it, and their hands brushed. Suddenly, she remembered why they were sitting on the back porch in the first place, and her mortification returned ten-fold. She averted her eyes, unable to meet his then.

"Would you like to talk about it?"

Alice turned to him, dumbfounded. "Why?" Why would he care?

Trowa passed her the spoon. "It helps," he said simply. Alice couldn't argue with that, but still she was reluctant.

"I'm a good listener." He waited for her to meet his eyes before he added: "It's because I'm quiet."

Alice blinked, shocked. Did he just make a _joke_?

Bright, bubbly laughter erupted from her lips. She found herself bending at the waist, hands clutching her sides, overcome by the emotion. The tears on her face were no longer those of sadness or stress. They were pure happiness.

Eventfully, her mirth faded to chuckles. "You're a lot funny than I gave you credit for Trowa," she said, wiping away her tears then without shame. He gave her a small smile, and she felt something in her melt.

Suddenly feeling a need to change the subject, she motioned to the ice cream. "Where'd you learn how to deal with overly emotional girls so well?"

"Catherine."

Her eyes widened in surprise. "Girlfriend?"

He shook his head. "No, more like an older sister." She let out a small sigh without understanding why.

"That certainly explains it, then." He made a sound of agreement.

Moments passed with the two simply eating ice cream in silence. The night was quiet and cool, and the small alleyway was abandoned. A lone black cat wandered between trash cans. Alice followed its progress, slowly working up the courage to speak. It was only when it disappeared behind a corner and didn't return that she finally spoke up.

"Ever have a shitty—and I mean _really _shitty—day? A day when everything that goes wrong is your own fault? A day when you screw up in every way possible? A day when absolutely _everything_ goes wrong?" She sighed. "I had one of those days."

When Trowa didn't say anything, she just continued her monologue. "And you know what?" She let out a bitter laugh. "One good thing did happen to me today. I think I was asked on a date, but was too upset about being blackmailed into going that I didn't even enjoy it."

"What?" She could feel Trowa's stare boring into her all of a sudden.

"Yeah, ridiculous right? I mean, it was the first time anyone had ever asked me to do anything as simple as get coffee. It wasn't even that big of a deal. But it—it was my first date…that I remember at least. I should have at least had fun, right?"

"Who?"

Alice blinked and then flushed. "Um, I hope this doesn't come out weird or anything, but Luke and I had a meeting this morning. There's this wealthy guy who wants to rebuild Sector Six, but then where will Luke and all the others go? We had to do something. Officially, we were there for our 'informed opinions and unique perspective'." She drew quotes in the air with her fingers. "The entire thing was a disaster. I was late, a complete mess, sweaty, and overall as non-professional as possible. But…the guy asked me to coffee after to talk more." Her expression darkened. "Luke threatened me into agreeing, throwing the responsibility of singlehandedly getting this guy on our side on me, the ass. So, yeah," she finished lamely.

She peeked over at Trowa only to find his expression dark. "You okay, Trowa?"

He ignored her question. "And you're okay with him using you that way?"

Alice blinked before her face twisted into an expression of irritation. "Hell no! That's why I was so pissed the entire time! There's nothing more I hate than being forced into doing something. I'm going to kill Luke!"

Trowa's face relaxed. "Good. No one deserves to take advantage of you, remember that."

A soft smile appeared on her face. "Thanks, Trowa. I appreciate that."

Their gazes remained locked. She had never really noticed just how green his eyes were. They were a deep forest green. But they were warm. Warm and inviting…

She jumped to her feet. "Well, it sure is late," she said lamely with an awkward little laugh. Trowa gazed up at her for a moment, and she began to fidget anxiously under his intense stare. He then followed her example with exponentially more grace.

She started for the door and then pulled away.

"I sent Duo home," he said, sensing the reason behind the hesitation.

"Oh." She wondered how he knew that when she hadn't even figured it out. But he was right. She really didn't want to see Duo—not that night at least.

They entered and traversed the house silently, Alice leading the way to the front door, a subtle hint to Trowa for him to leave.

She didn't really know why she felt so awkward all of a sudden, but she couldn't bring herself to say anything after what happened outside. On that note, what exactly did happen outside? A staring contest? She mentally groaned. This was all too much for one day.

Alice held the front door open for Trowa. With a nod, he passed her, while she could do nothing but stare on mutely.

It was only when his feet hit the stone pavement of the street did she finally find her voice. "Trowa, wait."

He turned to look at her over his shoulder. She couldn't make out his expression in the darkness and for some reason that made her next words easier to say.

"Thanks…for the ice cream and, you know, everything else." Could she sound any lamer? "And…well, I wanted you to know, it's not because you're quiet."

She felt more than saw him raising an eyebrow at her, so she clarified. "You're not a good listener because you're quiet. I don't know if you've ever been told this before, but…you're really good at understanding people, you know?"

His figure seemed frozen in place, and she became worried she had said something wrong.

After what felt like an eternity, he finally spoke. "No, no one has ever told me that."

A large smile spread across her face. "I'm glad I was the first, then."

She imagined him smiling back at her.


End file.
